


Tempus Fugit

by pseudo_EM



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Death, Epic Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Break Up, Slice of Life, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudo_EM/pseuds/pseudo_EM
Summary: “I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Oikawa chokes out.Hanamaki shuffles down to wrap an arm around Oikawa who is now hunched over with his head in his hands, sobbing violently. He feels his own eyes water, even as he tries his hardest to keep a straight face as he comforts his friend.He’s right, Hanamaki thinks biting down as hard as he can on his lip to stop it from trembling, that’s all that’s left now: memories.“What if,” Matsukawa says quietly, staring at his hands interlocked in front of him, “there was a way to bring Iwaizumi back?”Tempus Fugit: "time flies"





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So after years of reading fanfiction and being in awe of some of the amazing stories and authors out there, I decided it was time I try my hand at it 0_0 
> 
> I apologise in advance though - I haven't written a proper story since high school, therefore my grammar may not be up to scratch, plus my brain is fried (I've just finished university after a century of suffering) >.<
> 
> NB: while I do have a plan for the story and the direction it is going to go, at this stage I can't give any indication as to when I'll be updating next (hopefully I will as the story progresses). 
> 
> Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated ^_^

**Prologue (2026)**

 

Oikawa Tooru has never been a fan of winter.

The chill in the wind dries out his skin. Despite his appreciation for clothes, the added bulk of long-sleeved shirts, jumpers and parkas always cause an uncomfortable layer of sweat on the small of his back. Sometimes he even has to add another pair of socks – sometimes three in total, because his toes always feel as cold as the Gari Gari-kun popsicles Iwaizumi and he used to devour as kids.  

But today he bears it.

The trek is a short one, always is. Oikawa does not know if it’s a good or bad thing – it’s probably good for his knee in the long run, but he supposes the reason why he is here in the first place itself is a horribly painful one even after all these years.

His body moves on autopilot, following the cement path then veering off onto the long wet grass, stepping over a tree root here and there until he comes to a stop at his destination. Parallel to Oikawa’s left is a row of tombstones lined up like grey, sullen soldiers. Oikawa breathes out and turns to fully face one of the tombstones – a simple, modest-sized slab of granite:

 

_Here lies Iwaizumi Hajime_

_June 10 1994 – January 5 2021_

_Beloved husband, father, son and friend._

_He will be missed._

“Hello Iwa-chan,” he swallows, slipping his hands to the front pockets of his parka. “It wasn’t this cold last time I was here.”

There’s no response: there hasn’t been one in five years.

“Honestly,” he huffs as he shifts his weight onto his left leg, “I thought winters were supposed to be getting warmer now, what with global warming and all that. I told you it was hoax; one big conspiracy to cover up what really controls the weather,” here Oikawa peers up, his flair for dramatics though very rare these days emerges in the form a weak smirk and a slight spark in his eyes, “...aliens.”

Feeling his right knee start to fatigue he settles to sit on the small patch of dirt in front of the grave avoiding the wet grass least he wants a wet ass.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while, things have been a little...hectic.”

It’s a lie. If Iwaizumi were here right now he’d side eye Oikawa’s hand that had snuck nervously to the nape of his neck and the way he is now biting the inside of his cheek as he averts his gaze. Iwaizumi would then call him out on it in the form of a gruff _“Oi”_ or even perhaps a solid slap to the shoulder, followed by an _“I know you’re lying dumbass”_.

But Iwaizumi isn’t here. 

“It’s nothing really! Just work is getting busy again: lesson plans to create, exams to grade, kids to inspire,” he folds his arms over his bent knees; his glasses knocking into the tops of his thighs as he does so, “I even heard that they’re looking for a new department head, and rumour has it the Great Oikawa-san is a shoe-in.

“Other than that, there isn’t much to report...Oh, I almost forgot! Makki is coming back from his trip overseas tomorrow and I’ve offered to pick him up from the airport like the good friend I am. I’ve been trying to rope Mattsun to come with me but, well, I’m not having much luck. I thought luring him out of his workshop with a cheese-filled hamburg steak would work. Got any advice? ”

He glances up again to stare at the tombstone and hates the way his heart lurches at the sight of it; that for years now instead of dark spiky hair, sun-kissed skin and those olive green eyes he sees a slab of granite. A slab of granite that could never capture the years spent as children outdoors catching bugs and beetles with nets and playing Gojira vs. Aliens; fumbling with volleyballs as boys and even as teenagers as their love for the sport grew as quickly as the seasons changed; the tears, playful banter, arguments and laughter that came with the Aoba Johsai High School volleyball team and the lifelong friendships forged through wins and losses; the hardships of overcoming geniuses and insecurities; and, just simply, lazy afternoons walking home from practice or studying side by side in Iwaizumi’s room during the evenings, stargazing, and--

“Oikawa-san.”

Oikawa internally flinches; feeling the steady warmth that had come with reminiscing cherished memories ebb away. Standing while using his hands to pat the dust off his pant bottoms, Oikawa faces his interrupter.   

“Ah Midori-chan fancy seeing you here--”

“It’s Iwaizumi-san, not Midori-chan.”

A dry chuckle escapes Oikawa. He uses his index finger and thumb to position his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and glares down at Iwaizumi Midori. A petite woman with freckles decorating her cheekbones and sleek black hair cut at shoulder-length, Oikawa still remembers when he had first seen Midori. It was her first day as a new student at Aoba Johsai High School having transferred to their school at the start of their last year. Oikawa had commented how cute she looked. Iwaizumi had grunted and told him to hurry up or they were going to be late to practice.   

 “Hmm? But I thought we were close _Iwaizumi-san,_ I’ve known you since high school, was best man at your wedding, am godfather to your child...” he tapers off as he notices said child in an oversized winter coat sidling up behind her mother’s legs, and feels a genuine smile pull at his lips as he squats down to greet her, “ah Kin-chan! How is my favourite goddaughter doing?”

“Oji-san!”

Before Kin can leap into Oikawa’s arms, her mother’s hand reaches out and catches her daughter’s arm, “No Kin, remember what I told you about cemeteries: you have to be quiet. It’s disrespectful to run and yell.”

Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi’s daughter obediently stops then waddles back towards her mother where she is picked up.

“Besides, Oikawa-san was just leaving.” 

“Was I now?” he replies coolly.

“Yes. I’ve come to pay respects to my husband. I would very much appreciate the privacy.”

“I was here first, therefore I think it is you who is invading my privacy right now, Iwaizumi-san,” his hands now perched on his hip bones he takes a step closer and straightens himself to full height, something he perfected after numerous run-ins with Kageyama and Ushijima, “ _I_ would appreciate some privacy.”

“He’s my husband and the father of my child. Do you really think you have precedence over me?” Midori bites back.

“I’ve known Hajime since we were babies, so, yeah I think I do.” he says gritting his teeth to try and hold back the red hot anger welling within him.

“Please,’ Midori hisses, the volume in her voice increasing, “Hajime and you hardly spoke in the year leading up to his death. That’s not really typical behaviour of inseparable childhood friends.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh isn’t it? You never came over to visit, hardly replied to his texts. I recall you forgot his last birthday too?”

“Watch it.” Oikawa spits.

“It was for the best. You know the saying don’t you, Oikawa-san? True friends are like diamonds, precious and rare. Fake friends are like autumn leaves, found everywhere. You were just an autumn leaf after all. It was a shame Hajime had to suffer a friend like you.”

“Shut your mouth you-” Oikawa starts to growl before a whimper cuts his train of thought.

In her mother’s arm, Kin’s angelic face begins to crumble in response to the increasing intensity of her mother and godfather’s argument. Fat tear drops have already started to roll down her rosy cheeks and her bottom lip is wobbling up a storm.

“Kin-chan--”

“Please. You’ve done enough. There there, sweetheart, Papa wouldn’t want to see you crying,” Midori wraps her arm tighter around her daughter’s torso as if to shield her from Oikawa, “Are you satisfied? Making a little girl cry? Why don’t you just go?”

Deciding that the battle is lost, Oikawa sighs and starts walking back the car park. As he passes Midori and Kin he stops, and musters the most sincere bow he can manage, “Goodbye Kin-chan, Midori-chan, don’t stay too long; it’s a cold day today.”

 

****

 

Donnng. Donnng. Donnng. Donnng. Donnng. Donnng. Donnng.

 _Huh,_ _looks like I’ll be having another late lunch._

Leaning back in his wooden chair, Matsukawa Issei stretches his arms over his head, feeling each vertebra in his spine shift and crack. _God,_ he thinks as he rolls his shoulders, _I’m getting old._

He eyes the grandfather clock that now reads 7pm but almost flinches at how zoomed in his vision is. Realising that he still has his microscope glasses on, he plucks them off and takes a moment to re-adjust to the un-magnified vision. 

At thirty two years of age, Matsukawa thinks that his life so far hasn’t gone to plan.

At eighteen, he remembers not being so overly concerned about his future. “You know, it might not seem important now, but in ten, twenty years when you’re working two jobs to pay the bills and to feed your family, you’ll see that playing volleyball and looking at those stupid memos was a complete waste of time,” his father had said one evening. His mother had been trying to make small talk about school and what everyone – including him, was going to do post-graduation. Matsukawa hadn’t really thought about and said as much. “It’s _memes_ not memos, and who knows, perhaps I can be the first person to study the meme. I could make a job out of. Become a millionaire.” he’d joked.

It was a stupid thing to say in hindsight – the only person who had really had appreciated his vintage humour was Hanamaki. His father had not been impressed; the argument that followed had attested to that.  

Matsukawa tried to dabble in tertiary education but he wasn’t like Oikawa whose genius prevailed in more than just volleyball; he didn’t have Hanamaki’s wit and pragmatism; he didn’t have Iwaizumi’s stubbornness and resolution.

His stint in university lasted less than a year.

There had been a rough patch. His father had wanted him out of the house, and if it wasn’t for Hanamaki he probably would have been homeless.

“You really think I would say no? Pfft bitch please.” Hanamaki had scoffed as they unpacked Matsukawa’s belongings.

“My next pay comes in next fortnight, so I can make up for the rent I owe then. I can pick up mores shifts at the antique shop. Although I don’t think my skills as a handyman are--”

“Issei,” Hanamaki had interrupted, “I’m not your father you don’t have to justify anything to me. You do what you have to do, alright?” Hanamaki had smirked then, his slim pink-brown eyebrows rising in what could only be described as devious “also, you, a handyman? That’s gotta be the most handiest profession ever.”

“Don’t forget sexy.” Matsukawa had returned, his remarkably thicker eyebrows wiggling.

“Yeah, that too.” Hanamaki had replied arms winding their way around Matsukawa’s waist, their lips meeting.  

For a while things were smooth sailing. While Hanamaki continued studying journalism at university, Matsukawa continued with odd jobs, even dabbling into more specialised areas. He’d put feelers out, volunteering at antique shops, jewellers, locksmiths and found that he had quite the niche for repair work; his interest predominantly in horology, which probably stemmed from childhood. He had been fascinated with clocks enough once to unscrew his father’s Grand Seiko mechanical wristwatch just to see the tiny gears and all the other odds and ends despite the trouble he knew he’d get into.

“You wouldn’t think it,’ he told Hanamaki one night as he worked on the gear train of a client’s pendulum clock, “but clocks rely on energy to work.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm. Pendulums convert energy through their range of motion. When they’re at their highest point,” he demonstrates this by sticking his arm out in front of him and flicking his wrist out so his hand is angled at forty five degrees, “their potential or stored energy is at its maximum. Then, when it moves to its lowest point, the energy becomes kinetic,” his wrist moves so his hand points downwards, “so as the pendulum moves there’s equal amounts of potential and kinetic energy, which means it takes the same amount of time to swing up and down; it’s why it’s so effective in keeping time.”

“Huh,” Hanamaki breathes, a saccharine smile pulling at his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just I’m glad you’re doing something you love, you know? You seem happy.”

Matsukawa had paused his work and slid up onto the lounge next to Hanamaki, his arm settling around his lover’s shoulder, “Yeah. I am. It’s because of you. You stuck by me when my family gave up; gave me a place to live; supported me when I didn’t know what direction to take. I don’t know where I would be without you.”

Hanamaki had leaned into him, his head tucking under Matsukawa’s chin to hide the expression on his face, “aw shucks, you know how to charm a man, you big romantic you.”

It hadn’t lasted long.

The news had hit him like a service ace to the head. It had been Oikawa’s sister that had called a few days after the start of the New Year to tell them that Iwaizumi had been in a car accident _. That Iwaizumi had died._

Things had not been the same since.

Matsukawa closes his eyes to ward off the tears and tries to swallow down the choking, trembling feeling building up in his throat. _How had things spiralled so far out of control?_

He had asked himself this question for years. _Why? Why did he push Takahiro away? Why hadn’t he visited Hajime’s grave in over three years? Why did he turn a blind eye to the way Tooru drank too keenly and too much every time they went out for drinks? Why does he spend so much time couped up in his workshop working on clocks that he forgets the time itself? Why had life turned out this way?_

_Why?_

Peering back down to his work table, he thinks perhaps things might start going to plan.  

 


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter one! I got it out a little earlier than I planned. I've also managed to plan out the next 5-6 chapters too, so here's hoping I can post a chapter each week (or at least within a fortnight). 
> 
> Thank you to those who've taken the time to comment and kudos the story so far, I really appreciate the support. Please keep up the feedback, it's good fuel ^_^

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

  _(April 2012)_

“I meant what I said before.” Iwaizumi says as they leave the gymnasium after their practice match against Karasuno.

“About what? About not liking guys that girls ‘kyah’ over? Now Iwa-chan, just because all the girls were cheering when I arrived doesn’t mean--”

“No,” Iwaizumi interrupts as he hikes the strap of his sports bag higher on his shoulder, “about Kageyama not being a better setter than you. You should stop selling yourself short, you’re an amazing setter.”

Oikawa stops walking at Iwaizumi’s words. It’s a good sign the ankle he sprained a few weeks ago doesn’t twinge at the sudden change in momentum and he puffs a relieved sigh, “ _Aw_ , what’s with the compliments all of a sudden, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi, who had continued on walking stops a few paces in front of Oikawa. When he turns back, Oikawa expects to see his brow furrowed and a grimace twisting at his lips, instead, Iwaizumi is looking at him sternly, “Look, I know things are _tense_ right now _,_ what with it being our final year of school, the Interhigh Preliminaries coming up and well, _Kageyama_ , but you can’t torture yourself.”

Oikawa turns his head away from Iwaizumi, hoping he didn’t glimpse the brief flicker of fear on his face. _Had he been that obvious?_

He closes his eyes and runs his hand through his chestnut brown hair, sweeping it back even more. Canting his hip out, he folds his arms over his chest and musters the most care-free expression he can, hoping Iwaizumi will fall for it, “Oh Iwa-chan. I’m not the one who should be worried about school! I saw your marks in the most recent English pop quiz, _yikes_.”  

“Cut that shit out,” Iwaizumi storms up to him, his hand coming out to reef Oikawa’s arms away from his chest, “you’re deflecting. I saw your face when that number five from Karasuno hit that quick. I also saw you sneak off. You went to see Karasuno off, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, what of it? I was just saying hello to Tobio-chan. He is my favourite kouhai after all.”

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi says.

“Hajime.” Oikawa sasses back.

They’re close now; close enough that Oikawa can feel Iwaizumi’s breath fanning over the tip of his nose. Oikawa stares at Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi stares right back; like a rock withstanding the relentless force of a river current. Oikawa can see the frustration intermingled with concern in Iwaizumi’s eyes. He looks away and feels himself sag, the tension that had built over the course of their conversation seeping out of him.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have brought up your English mark,” Oikawa starts, his hand settling over Iwaizumi’s, gently pulling it off his arm, “I should know by now that you know me better than I know myself.

“Truth is, seeing Kageyama today made me feel nervous. That wasn’t the same Kageyama that we saw at the Junior High Athletics Meet. His control of the game is getting better; better than mine was at his age. As for Karasuno, although their receives were shaky at best, they managed to win today with green first years. Who’s to say the Preliminaries won’t be a repeat of today?”

Iwaizumi hums when Oikawa finishes. Oikawa’s hand is now grasped in Iwaizumi’s and he can feel Iwaizumi’s thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the back of his hand.

“They could win,” Iwaizumi says, his tone soft, “or we could win. It’s like I’ve said before: the team with the better six is stronger – and I think our team is strong; _you’re_ strong. No, don’t look at me like that, _you_ _are,_ dumbass _._  Did you see their faces when you served? It looked like they were about to shit their pants.”

Oikawa barks out a laugh, “I’m glad it has that effect on people.”

And like that the scared, hopeless feeling that had been building since he walked into the gymnasium that afternoon is replaced by a new feeling altogether. Gratefulness, he thinks, for one Iwaizumi Hajime coming into his life.

“You know,” Iwaizumi coughs, “I’m always here for you. Nothing is going to change that,” he squeezes Oikawa’s hand and Oikawa can feel the warmth rush to his cheeks. His palms are all sweaty too, he bemoans internally. “Even though you’re an annoying little shit.”

Oikawa screeches out, affronted, as their hands come apart, “Iwa-chan, how _rude._ We were having a moment!”

“Heh. But you are an annoying little shit, Shittykawa” he nudges Oikawa with his shoulder, “c’mon lets go home. I have another English test coming up soon and you’re gonna help me study for it.”

“The Great Oikawa-san requires a packet of milk bread as payment.”

“Fine.” 

They set off in the direction of the local Family Mart for Oikawa’s milk bread with less than an inch between them the entire journey home.  

 

****

(February 2026)

 

It’s been a while since the history teachers were all together in the same room.

There’s Hase-san, a recent graduate from Tokyo University sitting in the corner away from the commotion. Timid around the senior students and the other teachers, but incredibly bright; Oikawa finds her to be the most tolerable person in the room. _She looks a little frightened,_ Oikawa notes, _it’s no wonder, with all the big personalities in the room._

To Oikawa’s left is the haughty middle-aged Kondo-san, sitting with her legs crossed and picking away at the store-brought cake with her fork. Always put together with her red lips, smart high heels and cat-eye glasses, she’s intimidating on her good days. He has heard horror stories about students who were brave or stupid enough to forget homework and the punishments that had followed. Most of the students – even ones she hadn’t even taught before, are scared shitless of her and pre-emptively hide for cover when they hear the _click-clacking_ of her high heels coming up the hallway.

Next to Kondo-san is Yoshimura-san. He’s slighter older than Oikawa, but shorter, with piercing blue eyes that always seem alight with mirth. Objectively, he is good-looking, Oikawa concedes, with pearly white teeth, a natural tan and a fit physique. It comes as no surprise the female students are enamoured with him, and he does get along so well with Fujiakawa-san – the now retired and previous head of department. _But still_ , Oikawa thinks, watching as Yoshimura runs his hand through his crew cut while smirking down at his phone – probably updating his Facebook, _it doesn’t mean he deserved the promotion._

It’s not fair – that the new head of the history department is now Yoshimura, a prick with an ego the size of China. What irks Oikawa the most is that he’s the worst kind of teacher: he doesn’t spend time planning his lessons; borderline flirts with the girl students; ignores the quiet but otherwise diligent kids; and spends most of his time putting down student’s that are ' _academically challenged’_.

_“These kids, Oikawa-san, I swear, they’re dumb as dog shit! Check out what this one said for question seven. They would’ve been better off writing nothing!”_

He’s interrupted by laughter coming from the centre of the room. The loudest in the room – and probably the most eccentric, is the balding Fujiakawa-san. He is hunched over, guffawing boisterously at something the principal had just said. The principal Sato-san – a tall, lanky man, chuckles along with him, still holding his plastic plate littered with cake crumbs.

Reminded of his own empty plate, Oikawa decides now is as good a time as any to leave. He does have to pick Makki up from the airport, and he doesn’t feel much like staying here for any longer than he has to seeing as it’s now officially the start of Spring break. He tosses his plate in the nearest bin, comes to a stand and grabs both his leather satchel and duffle jacket that had been hanging on the back of his chair.

“Well it’s time for me to go. Bye Hase-chan, Kondo-san.”

“Goodbye Oikawa-san! Enjoy your holidays,” Hase replies amidst Kondo-san’s affirmative grunt, “I hope the traffic isn’t too bad going to the airport.”

“Ah, me too.” he sighs mournfully. 

Oikawa turns to Yoshimura, who still has his face buried in his phone. He slips on his jacket and slings his bag strap around his neck, “Goodbye, Yoshi-san. Congratulations on the promotion.” 

“Hmm,” Yoshimura replies distractedly looking up from his phone, “oh, yes, thank you Oikawa. So sorry you didn’t make the cut, maybe next time?”

Oikawa bites his bottom lip to hold back his sneer, “Better you than me to handle all the extra paperwork, I suppose.”

“It’s an important job with a lot of responsibility, but someone has to do it, eh? Personally, I think Fujiakawa made the right choice in choosing me as his successor. ” Yoshimura smirks.

 “It was certainly an interesting choice,” Oikawa contemplates, stroking his chin, “but I suppose it isn’t what you know, but _who you know.”_

Before Yoshimura can quip back with a reply Oikawa excuses himself with a bow and starts making his way towards the exit.

“Ah, Oikawa-san heading off so soon? We haven’t even cracked the beer open yet!” Fujiakawa exclaims, giving Oikawa a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“I’m afraid so. I’m acting as chauffeur today for a friend, and I need to get going if I want to beat the after work rush.”

“Fair enough! Well, thanks for staying back to celebrate anyhow, it was a pleasure working with you all these years, Oikawa.”

“The students and staff here will all miss you, you were a wonderful teacher.”

“Oh, Oikawa-san,” the Sato interjects, “before you leave, do you mind if we have a word? Seeing as I won’t be seeing you for a while.”

“Of course, Sato-san. Goodbye, Fujiakawa-san. I hope retirement treats you well.” Oikawa bows.

“Pwa-hahaha! I most certainly hope so! Take care, Oikawa-san, and drive safely.”

The principal motions Oikawa outside the staffroom and walks around the corner, “Sorry, Oikawa-san, I know you need to leave early today, but I’ll only keep you a moment--”

“It’s fine,” Oikawa assures, waving his hand, “what can I do for you?”

“Well you see, like Fujiakawa-san, Ueda-san – one of our Science teachers, is also retiring this month. Unfortunately though, Ueda-san was also the facility advisor for the boy’s volleyball team.

_Oh no, not again._

“And well, I was wondering if you would be interested in taking over?”

“Sato-san, I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. My knee isn’t what is it used to be these days, you see. It would be like the blind leading the blind.”

“Oh you wouldn’t have to physically exert yourself, just supervise, attend matches, and--”

“I really am sorry,” Oikawa presses, “but I don’t think I’m suited to this position. I’m sure there are others who would be--”   

“Forgive me, Oikawa-san, but I believe you are more than suited to this position. From what I’ve heard, you have extensive experience in volleyball – you even captained your teams in both elementary and high school. What’s even more impressive is that you attained a scholarship to play volleyball at Tokyo University. Rumours say you were almost scouted for the F.C. Tokyo team.”

“That’s true.”

“So won’t you consider it? If our volleyball team had you coaching them they’d be unstoppable.” Sato insists.

“My final answer is no, Sato-san. You’ll have to find someone else. Now if you excuse me I really must be going.” Oikawa hurries out as politely as he can, bowing swiftly.

He almost breaks out into a run back to his car.

 

****

_(May 2012)_

It’s the week after Golden week training camp that Oikawa has his first interaction with Nakahara Midori.

He hadn’t spared a single thought nor had he seen much of the new transfer student since a brief glimpse during the first day of school. However, as he notices the girl pause as Iwaizumi and he pass her in the corridor, it would seem their first meeting was imminent.

“Good morning, Iwaizumi-kun!”

_Well it seems Iwaizumi is acquainted with her._

“Oh, er, good morning, Nakahara-san.” is Iwaizumi’s off-guard, but polite reply. The response is unsurprising, Iwaizumi is not a morning person on the best of days, but with the residual exhaustion from training camp still present, Iwaizumi closely resembles the walking dead.    

“How was training camp?”

“It was good, although I’m feeling it now. I wonder if sensei will notice if I nod off in first period.” Iwaizumi jokes.

 _You won’t,_ Oikawa thinks, _you’re too pigheaded and diligent._

Nakahara’s chirpy laughter snaps Oikawa back to attention. “If you do,” she whispers conspiratorially, her hand covering her mouth like she’s about to drop the world’s best kept secret, “you can borrow my notes like last time.”

Something pangs inside Oikawa then, something he cannot place. He zones out of the conversation and finds himself observing them like a hawk; Nakahara twirling the end of her sleek black hair between her fingers, her torso now turned away from him but facing Iwaizumi fully. Iwaizumi has taken a step back, but is conversing steadily, throwing an awkward lopsided smile here and there.  

 _She’s flirting with him,_ is Oikawa’s horrified thought.

Disgruntled at being the bystander for far too long, Oikawa steps forward and wraps his around arm Iwaizumi’s shoulder, yanking him in close.

“Iwa-chan~, how are we going to make it through the day with only three hours of sleep? I told you sharing a futon was going to be a bad idea! You kept me up all night with your jostling.” with the hand attached to the arm wrapped around Iwaizumi’s shoulder he pinches Iwaizumi’s cheek. He side eyes Nakahara and his grin grows wider at her bewildered expression.

_On the contrary, sharing a futon with Iwaizumi had been the opposite of a bad idea._

“It’s too early to be dealing with you,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he slaps away Oikawa’s hand. He doesn’t push away Oikawa’s arm though, which is pleasing. “Besides you’re the one that wanted to share because it was _too cold_.”

“Details, details,” Oikawa flippantly counters. Happy for the conversation to move along, he angles both Iwaizumi and himself to properly face Nakahara who is still mildly gaping at them, “Oh I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve meet. Nakahara-san, isn’t it? I’m Oikawa Tooru beloved captain of the Aoba Johsai High School volleyball team, class representative and overall amazing guy.” For good measure, he sends her his trademark peace sign and wink combo.

“Pfft, yeah...amazing.” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath.

“Oh,” Nakahara answers, “nice to meet you Oikawa-san.”

 _That was rather...anticlimactic_ , Oikawa muses.

“Anyways, Iwaizumi-kun,” Nakahara says, the tone in her voice notably brighter, “I was wondering if you could help me with the math assignment Haramoto-sensei gave us. I know you’re tired from training camp, and I completely understand if you say no, but the last three questions are doing my head in, and it’s due Wednesday and--” 

“No problem. I don’t know how much help it’ll be but I can lend you my copy at lunch so you can go through it?”

“Really? Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver, Iwaizumi-kun! I’ll treat you to a snack of your choice at lunch.”

“There’s no need--”

The school bell rings to signify the start of homeroom, ending the two-sided conversation much to Oikawa’s delight. But the delight is short-lived as Iwaizumi slips from under his arm and starts heading to homeroom, with Nakahara-san in tow.

“See you later, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi calls from over his shoulder, his feet dragging as he starts making his way down the hall.

“See you, Iwa-chan, don’t miss me too much.”

Oikawa stays rooted to the ground as he watches Nakahara resumes chatting to Iwaizumi without so much as a glance in Oikawa’s direction.

 

****

(February 2026)

 

“Oi, you’re late.” Hanamaki deadpans.

“I left early!” Tooru retorts affronted, “How rude, I drive all this way to pick you up – after a long day of work and in busy traffic _mind you_ , and that’s the thanks I get.”

Hanamaki puts his hands up, “sorry, sorry. It’s the jetlag talking. I really am grateful; I just want to get out of this shithole.”

“You and me both,” Oikawa grunts as he heaves Hanamaki’s carry-on up, “let’s go, the car is this way.” 

They walk in amicable silence to the car park, Hanamaki stifling yawns every so often. Once they reach Oikawa’s 2016 Subaru Territory, they make quick work of putting Hanamaki’s luggage into the boot, then set off from Narita International airport in hopes it won’t take them anymore than an hour to get to Chiba.

“The commute back to Minato would’ve been worse,” Hanamaki comments semi-reclining in the passenger seat, “thanks for letting me stay at your place tonight.”

“Aren’t I are good friend, Makki? But I will start charging you starting tomorrow, accommodation isn’t cheap!” 

“Mates rates? I’ll even throw in some homemade milk bread.” Makki quips back smiling tiredly.

Oikawa chuckles, “Factoring in the _mates rates_ and the _milk bread_ , I could probably give you a 15% discount.”

“Only 15%?!”

 Oikawa shrugs good-naturedly, “lucky you’re only staying tonight then.”

“Heh. But I’m sleeping in though. Best decision ever to use my long service leave to get two weeks off after I got back from London, I think I’d die if I had to go back to work tomorrow.”  

“Lucky you,” Oikawa says as they pull up to a set of lights, “I have to get up nice and early tomorrow to go to the markets.”

“Speaking of work,” Makki asks as the lights go green, “did you get the head of department job?”

“No. Yoshimura got the gig.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I know.”

Hanamaki scowls when he looks up to see the disappointment in Oikawa’s expression, “The guy’s a tool.”

“I know, Makki.”

Hanamaki props his elbow onto the interior door frame and runs his hand through his short hair, “I’m sorry Oikawa. If anyone deserved that job, it was you.”

“Yeah, well, it couldn’t be worse than being asked to coach the boy’s volleyball team again.”

Hanamaki jolts in his seat, whipping around to face Oikawa, “They asked you again?” Oikawa nods, “what did you say?” 

“No, of course.”

Hanamaki shifts his eyes downward before looking at his friend again, “you know, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

“What?”

“The coaching job.” Hanamaki replies as Oikawa reaches down to change radio stations. “Look, I know you knee isn’t what it used to be. But--”

“Isn’t what it used to be? I can barely run anymore, Makki.”

“ _I know,_ but--”

“Besides, volleyball isn’t what it used to be to me,” Oikawa’s hands clench around the steering wheel, “and that’s not just because of my _damned knee.”_

Hanamaki swallows then whispers “yeah. Yeah I know.”

The car is quiet. It’s not like the comfortable silence they had shared on their walk to their airport car park. The air is tense and awkward; the radio now playing some melodious, upbeat Top 100 hit, which is a complete contrast to the mood in Oikawa’s car.

“So,” Oikawa starts, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, “what are you doing during your two weeks off? School’s out for spring break, so I was thinking of going back to Sendai to see the family.”

“Huh, oh, well. Sleep mostly; the jetlag is going to be a pain in the ass. Unpack, organise my notes from the conference...my parents will want to hear all about my trip to London, so I’ll be going to Sendai sometime before I start work again too I guess.”

“Oh? We should meet up in Sendai. I’ll text Mattsun. It’ll be nice for the three of us to all catch-up.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what? You don’t seem enthusiastic. Don’t you want to catch up? Is it because of Mattsun?”  

Now it’s Hanamaki’s turn to get angry, “of course it’s because of Mattsun.”

“He’s your--uh--friend.”

“Pfft,” Hanamaki sneers at Oikawa, “yeah, friend.”

“Makki, don’t be like that. I know things have been weird since you broke up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. You know, Mattsun really wanted to come with me to pick you up today but he had stuff he was working on.”

“No real surprise there. His whole life is that workshop.”

“It’s his job,” Oikawa reasons, stealing a quick look at his friend before turning back to the road, “a job he’s really passionate about too. Can you really blame him? But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’ve never tried to _let me_ understand.”

“How could I?” Hanamaki argues, shifting to face Oikawa again, “you were still grieving, Oikawa. No one knew how to approach you! Do you really think I was going to come up to you and be like: _Hi Oikawa, I know you’re still sad about Iwaizumi and all, but I’m having relationship problems with Mattsun, please help me._ Really? Do you think I would be that self-centred?”

“No! But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you or Mattsun. I just want to know what happened.” Oikawa pleads.

“Iwaizumi died, and while everyone was grieving – _while I was grieving_ , Matsukawa just keep playing with his clocks. That’s all that matters to him – _those damn clocks._ I needed him Oikawa, but he just wasn’t there. I’d get home from work and he wouldn’t be home. Even when he was, he was aching to get back to his workshop.”

“Maybe that was his was way of dealing with his grief?” Oikawa suggests tentatively, wetting his lips.

“Yeah maybe. But all those years I was there for him – when his father threw him out, when he was looking for work, paying his share of the rent. When I needed him there, he just _wasn’t_ ,” Makki grumbles sliding down in his chair exhausted, “this conversation is years too late, what’s done is done.”

 _I wasn’t there for you either,_ Oikawa thinks glumly.  

“I’m sorry, Makki,” Oikawa says, his tone soft, he feels mentally drained even though he hasn’t been using his brain, “I had no idea.”

“Don’t apologise,” Hanamaki grunts, arms folding across his chest, “the whole thing is fucked.”

“But still, won’t you meet up with Mattsun and me in Sendai? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. I’ll even contact Mattsun myself,” he faces Makki, expression beseeching, “please?”  

Hanamaki is silent for an agonising moment and Oikawa almost dreads to hear what the next thing to come out of his mouth will be.

Beside him, Hanamaki exhales, “Yeah okay, fine. If you manage to get Mattsun out of his workshop, then fine. Keep your eyes on the road already.”

“Thank you, Makki.”

The minutes tick by in their trip to Oikawa’s place, Hanamaki drifting off in his seat; neck bent against the window at an angle that can’t be comfortable.   

And Oikawa. Oikawa keeps on driving.

 

****

_(June 2012)_

He is livid.

What is surprising though is who it’s aimed at. Normally, the main victims would be Tobio-chan or stupid Ushiwaka, surprising no one at all, especially with the Miyagi Interhigh Preliminaries right around the corner. But it’s not. It isn’t even his sister or parents, or Mattsun and Makki and their stupid pranks.

Instead, it’s Iwa-chan.

It’s not like he has never been at angry at Iwa-chan before. Throughout their childhood, there had been several instances where he’d given Iwa-chan cold shoulders, or hid in his bedroom; even once he had lied and said he wanted to play with his sister instead all because he had been angry with his best friend. But one thing their squabbles all had in common was that they didn’t last long. They were always quick to forgive each other, usually citing the fact they had better things to do – like perfect their combos – and that the reason why they were fighting lost on them at the end of it all.

As they grew older, Oikawa realised it was increasingly difficult to stay mad at Iwaizumi. He was patient when Oikawa stayed back to practice jump serves; always quietly listened as he prattled on about his alien conspiracy theories and even added his own comments much to Oikawa’s gratification; he relented and allowed Oikawa to share his futon whenever he slept over no matter the excuse Oikawa came up. He was brutally honest, kind-hearted and earnest to a fault; and more dedicated and industrious than anyone else he had ever known. 

And Oikawa loved him, which probably explained why he was angry with him.

Iwaizumi is late and he has sneaking suspicion why. 

“You’re one to talk,” Makki points out as they stretch on the gymnasium floor. He is being rather obvious: his head keeps darting up to the clock on the wall. “If I were to gain muscle every time you strolled in half an hour late because you just had to try that new cookie recipe one of your fangirls made _just for you,_ I’d be strong enough to beat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling.” 

“I’m surprised you don’t have Diabetes.” Mattsun jibes as he pushes down on Makki’s back. Hanamaki hisses in protest at the tightness in his muscles.

“It would be rude of me not to accept thoughtful gifts from my fans,” Oikawa replies half-heartedly. It looks like he’ll have to ask someone to help him with his stretches.

He’s about to ask one of second years – preferably Yahaba – when Iwaizumi makes his grand appearance. He’s already changed into his practice gear and is holding onto the side of the gym door for balance as he works his foot into his volleyball shoes. What’s more bothersome is the presence of Nakahara Midori behind him. She’s saying something to Iwaizumi by the looks of the way she’s gesturing animatedly, all beaming smiles and bell-like laughter. It’s disgusting.

“Ah, Iwa-chan, so nice of you to grace us with your presence.” Oikawa’s voice rings out in the gym. It catches Nakahara’s attention as it does Iwaizumi’s, which Oikawa takes pleasure in.

“It’s my fault, Oikawa-san;” Nakahara’s voice cuts through curtly, “Iwaizumi-kun was just helping me with classroom duties. The other student who was supposed to help me is sick you see, but Iwaizumi-kun kindly offered to stay back so I wouldn’t have to do it all alone.” one of Nakahara’s hands comes to touch Iwaizumi’s shoulder in gratitude. Oikawa twitches at the not so subtle flirtatious touch.  

“No worries,” Iwaizumi smiles toothily, standing up to full height, “um, if you wanted to watch practice, those who usually come along go up to the top level,” he points up to where some students have already flocked along the railing, “the stairs that lead up there are out in the foyer area.”

“Oh okay, great, I’ll head up there now. Thank you again, Iwaizumi-kun, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” she reaches out to touch Iwaizumi’s shoulder yet again, this time giving it a gentle squeeze. Before Iwaizumi can say anything though, she pivots around and walks back into the foyer but not before her eyes glide to meet Tooru’s derisively.

Throughout practice, Oikawa seethes about the _incident_ and relishes in the brief distraction volleyball practice offers. It’s short-lived in the moments he catches Nakahara above him cheering away with the other students. Occasionally she’ll shout out to say something to Iwaizumi when he ventures closer to where she’s standing, and Iwaizumi will engage her in a quick chat or explanation about volleyball jargon.

 _You’re being a hypocrite,_ he chastises as he picks out a volley ball from the cart and goes through the motions of a jump serve. _Girls flirt with you ALL the time. Girls come to volleyball practice and matches to cheer for you ALL the time._ His point is proven when his serve slams loudly on the other side of net sending the water bottle flying; girlish squeals and clapping erupt from the level above long after the bottle rolls to stop on the opposite service line.

But there’s something jarring about Nakahara and her advances.

He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way Nakahara is going about ‘ _pursuing_ ’ Iwaizumi – the subtle touches, asking for favours, inviting herself to watch him practice, is quickly moving from meek and tentative to bold and aggressive. He hates to think what happens when he isn’t there and curses the fact he and Iwaizumi aren’t in the same class like Nakahara is.

Oikawa also finds it disconcerting that - besides their first encounter when he taken her by surprise with his _handsy_ interaction with Iwaizumi _–_ she’s completely unperturbed by him. No grimaces, no pouts, no nothing; only meeting Oikawa with a look to say _really, that’s all you got?_  

And worst of all, Iwaizumi seems none the wiser, a notion that has Oikawa grumbling back to the volleyball cart.

When practice finishes, Iwaizumi stays to help the younger players with tidying up – his comeuppance for being tardy. Meanwhile Oikawa decides to slip away, thinking it best to avoid Iwaizumi; he doesn’t feel like lashing out at his best friend for something that isn’t his fault.

As he rounds the corner however he is met with a girl leaning against the wall fidgeting nervously with a letter in her hand.

“Oh?” he says a little taken aback. He had gone that with way specifically to avoid having to run into anyone.

“Oikawa-san!” the girl squeaks.

 _She’s a third year_ , Oikawa remembers. Akita-san is her name; she’s in his class and keeps mostly to herself, very studious. Her light brown hair is up in a fluffy bun and her skin is quite pale. _She would probably get sunburnt come summer time if she didn’t put any lotion on._

“Akita-san,” he addresses her politely, “what are you doing here by yourself.”

“Ah, oh well, I was actually waiting for you, Oikawa-san.”

She’s blushing now, Oikawa observes, finally catching on as to why she’s here by herself, away from the crowds and waiting for him. _She’s here to confess to me._

It’s not Oikawa’s first confession. They all often go the same way: the girl will confess, hand him a letter or home-cooked baked goods, proclaim their admiration for him and ask if he wanted to go out on a date. He has always declined, apologetically explaining his dedication to his studies and volleyball; never forgetting to bow sincerely and accepting the baked goods as a token of appreciation. _I hope you’ll still cheer me on though,_ he would recite, _and the rest of the Aoba Johsai High School volleyball team. We really do cherish your support!_

But today he pauses.

Oikawa thinks about today and all the other interactions Iwaizumi and Nakahara had had since the start of semester. Although the flirting was one-sided on Nakahara’s part, it wasn’t like Iwaizumi had brushed her off; instead, he helped her with classroom duties and homework, and invited her to practice. She was always there, following Iwaizumi like a lost dog, and Oikawa was at his wits end. _Was there something going on between them? Were they in that awkward pre-dating stage? Were they already dating? Had they gone on cute dates and shared a hug on her front doorstep? Had they kissed?_

Oikawa could just ask Iwaizumi – it would surely answer all his questions, but he’s too scared and too angry to even form the question. The thought that the person who knows him better than he knows himself, the person who brings out the best in him, that the person Tooru loves the most is no longer his is too painful to stomach.

_So what better way to swallow down the pain and get over the heaviness in his heart then to date someone else?_

He knows he’s being petty, but the spiteful part of him urges him on. _It’s the only way I can get through this._

So when Akita-san hands him the letter and confesses, asking Oikawa if he would like to go to the local cafe that had just opened in town, he accepts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Oikawa goes to see his family + we get to see what Matsukawa is up to. And flashbacks, can't forget the flashbacks.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the 2nd chapter for Tempus Fugit! Once again I got it out earlier than expected (wonder how long this will last for lol).
> 
> Thanks to all those who have kudos, bookmarked and commented! ^_^ 
> 
> Enjoy! ^_^

** CHAPTER TWO **

 

(February 2026)

 

It’s 1am and the lights in Matsukawa Issei’s workshop are still on.

 _That boy really does need to look after himself better_ , Mirai-san – Matsukawa’s elderly neighbour, thinks as she peers out her bedroom window.

It isn’t unusual for the Matsukawa – the resident horologist, to work late into the night ever since he moved into the townhouse across the street a couple of years ago, living above on the top floor and setting up his workshop below on the bottom floor.  

She had been sceptical at first when she heard that a ‘young’ man would be moving across the road, and so had been the other neighbours.

_“I heard he’s from Tokyo - a city boy.” Hatake-san remarked, eyeing the Datsun Ute filled to the brim with cardboard boxes and the removal van idling at the front of the recently sold townhouse._

_There was a small crowd of their neighbours not so subtly hanging around the street to suss out their new neighbour. She had tried to be a bit less obvious – on her hands and knees doing the weeding in her front garden._

_“It doesn’t look like he has children, and it doesn’t look like his married. He’s most likely a bachelor then. I certainly hope he doesn’t make a ruckus – inviting people over and partying all night long, it isn’t ‘that’ sort of street.” Daneki-san added disapprovingly._

_“He’s partying won’t bother me! I’m up all night going to the toilet anyway. It’s the damn fluid tablets.” Mirai huffed, wiping sweat off her forehead. She turned her head around to see if anything had changed in the last minute since she’d last checked. The removal men were getting back into the van now. Next to the truck stood a very tall, sleepy-eyed and curly-haired boy – yes, at her age she could still call him a boy, chatting away to the workers in hushed tones. The van drove away shortly after, the exhaust pipe huffing out black smoke as it went, leaving the boy alone with his new neighbours. As if noticing the attention directed his way he’d turned to face the crowd and begun walking across the road._

_“I’m sorry for all the commotion. That’s the last of my belongings to be delivered for today.”_

_“That’s quite alright. It’s not often these days we see new faces – and someone so young as well.” she answered in kind, getting off her haunches._

_“It’s a lovely spot. I’ve always admired this part of Sendai; I used to ride my bike through these streets as a kid._

_“So you’re from these parts, uh--”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners. My name is Matsukawa Issei.” he replied, bowing low._

_She plucked her gardening gloves off her hands and turned to the young man, reciprocating the bow, “it’s nice to meet you, Matsukawa-san. I’m Mirai Megumi.”_

_She’d looked in his dark eyes; watching as he made introductions to the rest of the neighbours. For someone who had moved into a new home, he didn’t seem overly happy or thrilled. It was a little surprising to her – to see someone so young with so much a head of them to wear such an odd expression._

_“He’s such a handsome young man,” Daneki commented a few months later as she watched him and one on his customers lift and carry a Victorian grandfather clock into the workshop entrance, “And strong too. I must invite my granddaughter down from Hokkaido and introduce them.”_

_“No offense, I think you would be wasting your time, Daneki-san.”_

_“What! You mean he has someone? I haven’t seen any girls over his place.”_

_She hadn’t seen anyone at Matsukawa’s, but she had caught a glimpse of the photo of Matsukawa and another young man with pink hued hair, when he had flipped open his wallet a few weeks ago. The other boy in the photo had his arm wrapped around Matsukawa’s neck, posing with a peace sign while kissing Matsukawa’s cheek. Matsukawa had been smiling in the photo, the ear-splitting type that was all consuming and full of happiness._

_“Oh nothing, just a feeling.” she brushed off._

_She had wondered if that was the reason why he had moved all the way from the big city - to escape from the woes of broken heart. Later on that day, while drinking tea in his workshop as he fiddled with insides of a clock – a now weekly tradition for the two of them, she decided she was going to find out._

_“A very good friend of mine died in a car accident.” he said, when she asked why he had moved back Sendai._

_“Oh, Matsu, I’m sorry--”_

_“Don’t apologise. My friend – Iwaizumi, and I used to play volleyball together in high school and we’ve been friends ever since. He was a great guy; he didn’t deserve to die.”_

_“Death doesn’t discriminate.” she sighed. She knew the feeling; her late husband hadn’t deserved to die either._

_Matsukawa heaved out a deep breath, “Does it, does it a get any easier?”_

_“I don’t know about easier, but you learn how to get by each day. You have your good days as well as your bad.”_

_He’s left so many people behind: a wife and kid, his parents, family and friends who loved him.” Matsukawa kept working, actions not betraying the emotion in his words, “Shit, I’m sorry for rambling--”_

_“You weren’t rambling. Hatake is the rambler of this street – a title he is not willing to give up,” she said as she set down her tea cup, Matsukawa letting out a small chuckle, “Thank you, Matsu, for telling me this.”_

_“Huh.”_

_“Pardon, not huh, Matsu,” she chided, but reached out all the same to give a comforting pat on the arm, “Since my husband died, not many people broach these topics with me anymore, death is taboo and whatnot. But it’s good to talk of these things - keeping your feelings hidden away isn’t good for you.”_

_Matsukawa had paused in his work then, setting down his tools and swivelling in his chair to properly face her, “Yeah I know. I’ve learnt the hard way.” a faraway look in his eyes._

She had grown incredibly fond of Matsukawa. He had settled in comfortably in their street, establishing a mildly successful watchmaking and repair shop. Matsukawa was refreshing to say the least, despite the serious air he sometimes had about him. He was thoughtful, kind and was always willing to help out with any odd jobs around the neighbourhood. He also had a sense of humour which almost rivalled her own, but there were times she caught him in his own world, looking a little too melancholic to pass off as just being tired.

Mirai turned away from the window heading back to the bedroom, _Perhaps one night, when I get up to go to the blasted toilet,_ she thought, _the lights won’t be on at all._

 

An hour later, an astonished gasp and the clattering sounds of something falling echoed in the confines of Matsukawa’s workshop. Where there had been nothing moments ago now laid Matsukawa; limbs akimbo on the dusty floor and gasping like a drowning man that had just resurfaced from the deepest depths of the ocean.

“ _It works.”_

****

_(July 2012)_

“I still don’t get why you had to take that photo, Tooru.” Takeru says.

Oikawa grumbles as he fiddles with the editing options of the photo of him posing next to Kageyama. _It’s almost perfect._

“Why did you take that photo?” 

Tooru pockets his phone, a little peeved he can’t get rid of the blurriness completely, “At some stage in your life, Takeru, there comes a moment where you best the person who somehow always manages to best you. It’s only natural to get the evidence to prove said moment.”

Takeru blinks up at him apathetically, “You’re so petty, Tooru.”

“Geh! That’s no way to speak to your uncle! Isn’t there someone you know who always does one better than you? Like someone at school or something?”

Takeru thinks for a moment as he fiddles with his bag straps, “Yeah, there’s this kid I play volleyball with, Satori-kun. He wasn’t there today, but when he is he always hits more spikes in then me. He always gloats about it too.”

“That’s what it’s like with Kageyama – that guy back there. He’s nowhere near my level yet in terms of skill and experience, but he’s still a genius setter. So when I get ahead, it feels really good. Doesn’t it feel good when you hit a really good spike and Satori-kun hits the net or gets blocked?”

“It does.” Takeru says, smiling toothily.

Tooru ruffles Takeru’s buzz cut, “What do you say we go get some ice cream, my treat for my favourite nephew!”

“I’m your only nephew.” Takeru points out, but the child-like glee at the prospect of free ice cream wins out and he cheers, “I get to pick any flavour I want?”

“You sure do, but it’s our little secret, okay? Don’t tell your mother.”

The walk to local ice creamery is a leisurely one. A soothing cool breeze dances along the trees rustling the leaves as they walk along the street. There are plenty people about enjoying the afternoon, from groups of kids hanging out after school to senior citizens sitting down on park benches playing chess all taking advantage of the balmy weather before the humidity well and truly sets in.

Oikawa peers down at his nephew – who’s now humming the tune Oikawa was whistling before, and smiles. While he pokes fun at his uncle from time to time, Takeru is still at an age where even though he tries to hide it, he looks up to Oikawa. It’s nice, Oikawa finds, spending Monday afternoons with Takeru. Not only does it serve as precious nephew-uncle time, but it also keeps his mind off other things: like his breakup with Akita-san.

He should have seen it coming really. It wasn’t the smartest or nicest thing to do – to date someone on a whim so that he could forget about somebody else. So it only made sense that karma bit him on the ass in the form of a bruised ego, all the while Iwaizumi was blissfully unaware of Nakahara’s flirting and his best friend’s inner turmoil. It’s good in a way that they had broken up so soon before it got too drawn out, there was only so many times staying back after practice to work on his serves could be used an excuse to cancel a date.

“I think I’m gonna pick choc chip and bubblegum,” Takeru says, as they come to stand outside the ice creamery, “Can I get one scoop of each?”

“Hmm. Do those flavours even go together?”

“Of course they do! What are you gonna get, Tooru?”

Normally he’d get one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of matcha; Iwaizumi and he taking turns as they shared a cup, “I might just get one scoop of strawberry. You better pick between either one scoop of choc chip or bubblegum,” he says as he takes his wallet out of his pant pocket, “I think your mother will find out you’ve been pigging out when you don’t eat your dinner tonight. Then we’ll both be in trouble.” he shudders at the thought.

Takeru pouts but he relents and asks for bubblegum. They enter the shop and Oikawa orders their ice cream as Takeru goes to get a seat at a booth at the back of the store. As Oikawa approaches the booths ice creams in tow, he notices a group of girls – second years, from Aoba Johsai sitting a couple of booths away from Takeru.

One of the girls spots him and stands up in her seat, “Hello, Oikawa-senpai!” All the other girls turn to face him and greet him enthusiastically.

“Hello girls,” he bows, “enjoying your ice cream?”

“Yes,” one the girl answers, “would you like to join us? There’s room!”

They all start shuffling so Oikawa can have a seat on the edge, but he puts his hand up, “I’m sorry, but I’m actually here with my nephew.” he points over to Takeru who’s now glaring right back, no doubt losing patience having to wait his ice cream.

The disappointment quickly changes to cute squeals of “a _www_ ”, “ _how_ _sweet_ and _“what a good uncle_ ”. Oikawa waves apologetically, says his good-byes and walks over to Takeru.

“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, sorry. Here you go: one scoop of bubblegum ice cream.”

“Thanks!”

Oikawa watches as Takeru practically devours his ice cream while he takes more conservative bites. He can faintly hear the second year girls gossiping a few booths away and thinks nothing of it until he hears Iwaizumi’s name.

“I hear Iwaizumi-senpai is dating someone.”

“What? Who?” one of the girls almost shouts.

“That new girl, Nakahara Midori.”

“What, no way. I didn’t think she’s his type at all.”

 _Too right,_ Oikawa agrees.

“I heard from my senpai that a friend of hers thought she saw them kissing in an empty classroom.”

Oikawa almost drops his ice cream cone.

“Oh my god!”

“Yeah I know!”

 “How accurate is it though?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that your senpai’s friend ‘thought’ she saw them kissing. Is she 100% sure?”

“I don’t know...”

“I know, why don’t we ask Oikawa-senpai,” Oikawa does his best to pretend like he hasn’t been eavesdropping, feeling the weight of half a dozen stares in his direction, “he would know best seeing as he’s best friends with Iwaizumi-senpai.”

A wave of panic hits Oikawa as he tries to school his features into nonchalance. He doesn’t know what he would say if they came over and started firing off questions about Iwaizumi and Nakahara. As good as his poker face is he doubts he can keep up the facade right now; it would break his heart if he had to pretend like he was invested in the recent developments of Iwaizumi’s love life.

“Don’t ask him now, he’s with his nephew that would be rude.” a girl argues.

“Yeah,” another adds, “he seemed like he wanted to have his privacy, which would make sense - did you hear his girlfriend broke up with him. He must be heartbroken.”

 _Heartbroken sounds about right._ He stares down at this ice cream now melting down the cone onto his hands; he can’t find himself to care.

“Tooru, your ice cream is melting.” Takeru pipes up; his own ice cream finished.

“Hmm. I’ve lost my appetite, would you like to have the rest?”

“I thought I was only allowed one scoop?”

“I won’t say anything to your mother if you won’t.” he deflects as he passes it over to his nephew.

Takeru looks at him brows furrowed and eyes scrutinising but takes the ice cream off Oikawa, eating the ice cream with less vigour than before.

 

****

(February 2026)

 

“Tooru, breakfast is ready!”

Oikawa wakes with a start. A little disorientated – last time he checked he lived alone, he shoots up in bed and reaches out for his glasses on his bedside table. It’s as he slips them on that he realises where he is: back in his old bedroom at his parent’s home in Sendai.

“Won’t be long, kaa-san.” he responds.

He’s quick to get out of bed and amble to the bathroom before he goes downstairs to join his mother for breakfast. As he’s halfway down the stairs he hears an extra set of voices that he hadn’t been expecting.

“Takeru put your phone away.”

“I’m checking my emails, kaa-san, it won’t take that long.”

“Surely it can wait till after breakfast, you—oh Tooru; it’s about time you were up.”

“Onee-san,” Oikawa says as he enters the dining room, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

His sister is seated at the table ladling miso soup into her bowl. Unlike him, she’s dressed in her day clothes, her coffee brown-grey hair tied up into a tidy chignon. Across from her sits Takeru, still sporting the closely shaved hair style he had as a kid, dressed in a baggy tee and chinos.

 _I feel underdressed,_ Oikawa groans.   

“Okaa-san said you were coming down from Chiba, and that you were planning on staying down for a bit so I thought I’d grace you with my presence! Your nephew decided to tag along too now that uni has broken up.” Takeru grunts in response still taping away on his smartphone.

“Humph. It’s me who’s gracing you with my presence.” Oikawa remarks as he makes his way over to the table. 

“Please,” his sister snorts, standing up to hug her brother, “do you really think I can take you seriously in pin-striped pyjamas. You’re really showing your age, Tooru.”

Tooru hugs his sister a little tighter “there, there, nee-chan. I think I see more grey hairs than last time! And have you gotten shorter? It’s hard to tell all the way up here.” 

“Stop it you,” his sister grumbles as she slaps him away, “eat your breakfast it’s going cold.”

Oikawa settles down in the seat next to his sister marvelling at the spread his mother had whipped up, and by the pleased eating noises Takeru is now making it must taste as good as it looks, “Itadakimasu.”

“So,” Oikawa inquires while scooping up some rice, “how’s my favourite sister and nephew?”

“Feh,” Takeru replies exasperatedly as his mother sighs. “You’re favourite sister is well, Tooru. Although work is busy as always. Not all of us get the weekend off; I have to head in today. On a Sunday too!”

“Hmm. That’s unfortunate.”

“Yes well not all of us are quite as lucky as you. That reminds me, did you get the promotion: the head of department job?”

“Ah no, I didn’t get the promotion.”

“You didn’t get the promotion,” his mother parrots as she walks in from the kitchen, “I thought you said you were first choice?”

Oikawa feels like he’s had this conversation before, “I thought I was, but they chose another colleague instead. Personally, I don’t think the colleague is suitable. He’s got a lot of friends in high places.”

“Hmm.” his mother responds, settling opposite of her children next to Takeru. Oikawa stares after her, waiting for her to add something else, but she’s surprisingly silent.

His sister gives him a gentle nudge with her elbow, “Don’t mind, Tooru. Hopefully that jerk won’t last long. You’re a great teacher. Takeru agrees, don’t you honey? Your uncle was quite helpful when you were sitting your high school exams wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, Tooru,” he responds, “I don’t think I would’ve done half as well in school if it weren’t for you. Probably wouldn’t have got into uni either.” 

“Thanks, Nee-chan, Takeru.” smiling softly as he starts to eat.

There’s peace and quiet for a while as everyone eats their breakfast. If Oikawa’s father were here – he has always worked weekends for as long as Oikawa could remember; he would probably be cross-examining the newspaper or commentating alongside the news reporter on the television. But instead it’s filled with eating noises and chopsticks tapping against ceramic bowls. _It’s nice_ , Oikawa thinks, _it’s been too long since I’ve shared breakfast with someone._

“I hear Kageyama Tobio is going to be the National Team’s new setter.” his mother remarks, shattering the peace.

Oikawa doesn’t miss the looks his sister and nephew send his way. “Oh?”

“First string too,” she adds pouring more tea into her cup, “isn’t that amazing? You’re kouhai now representing Japan.”

Oikawa loves his mother, he truly does, but it’s in times like these where she’s naively insensitive about things that it makes him wonder if she’s really that oblivious or if it’s her strange way of bringing him back to Earth.

“Good for him.” he utters. His mother puts down her chopsticks and leans back in her chair nursing her cup of tea in her hands. 

He can feel it coming, _the discussion._ Yesterday when he had arrived at his parent’s place, she’d been all happy smiles, ushering him to eat and to rest up from his big drive from the city. He was silly to think that he was going to avoid this conversation, as well-worn as it was.

“I still don’t understand why you gave it up. You were so talented. All that money your father and I put towards coaching and training, the scholarship you got into Tokyo University with, all that time and effort; it was all a waste.”

“It wasn’t a waste,” he says defensively, “I appreciate all you and father did for me, but my knee, well, I don’t need to repeat myself again do I? I can’t physically play volleyball anymore.”

“You’d given up long before your knee. I’m your mother Tooru, not an idiot.” Oikawa bites his lip and looks away. His sister reaches out and gently squeezes his thigh under the table. He hopes his mother will relent and stop there but when he hears her tea cup clonk down on the table he braces himself for the next onslaught.

“Also, now that you’re here I think it’s about time we had a talk about your future. You’re in your thirties now, Tooru, don’t you think it’s about time you settled down? You’re charismatic, have a stable job, and have your own place in the city,” she says as ticks them off with her fingers as though she’s reciting a grocery list, “surely you would have no trouble finding a nice girl to marry.”

This blindsides him. _Where is this coming from?_

He hears a chair scrape against the floor and watches as Takeru – with his empty breakfast plate, stalk out of the dining room towards the kitchen, escaping. _Good idea._

“It’s not something I’ve considered.”

“But you’re thirty – you aren’t getting any younger. You don’t want to be in your fifties and running around after toddlers.” his mother argues.

“I don’t think I’m marriage material.” That ship had sailed years ago along with Iwaizumi and Nakahara’s nuptials.

“Nonsense, and before you start making excuses about being too busy with work, or,” and Oikawa knows what she’s about to say and feels himself go tense before the words even leave his mother’s mouth, “that you’re still grieving, I’ll have you know it’s been five years, Tooru. I think it’s time to move along and start living your life.”

“Okaa-san,” his sister interjects, “you’re being--”

“I’m saying this because I’m your mother, Tooru,” his mother says over his sister, standing up and collecting her used plate, cup and bowl, “I love you and want what’s best for you. I might be being harsh, but it’s my job. Now, I need to get going I have errands to run. Can someone please clean up? I’ll be back sometime after lunch.”

Tooru nods his head numbly as he mother comes around to kiss his sister and his foreheads.

“Goodbye, Takeru. Help with the cleaning up ok?” he hears his mother say distantly. He hasn’t moved out of his seat nor has his sister. Takeru comes back into the dining room, stacking the dining ware efficiently but quickly without disturbing his mother and uncle. It’s not until they hear the sounds of their mother starting the car and driving off that they start talking.

“That’s a new record,” Oikawa jokes, “only took her two days. Plus this time she brought up marriage. Honestly, I’m shocked she waited this long.”

“Tooru, are you okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yes, wonderful. Just what I needed to hear this morning.”

“She was being a cow.” his sister hisses. She spins around to face him, fury dancing in her brown eyes, “She has no right to say you’ve spent too long grieving. Don’t listen to her Tooru. And you don’t have to get married. What a crock of shit. I’m not married and my life has turned out fine.”

“I know, and I’m not planning on marrying anyone; she’ll have to drag me down the aisle.”

“Good,” his sister looks relieved as she reaches for her handbag, “anyways, it’s time I head into work. I’ll be home around 2ish, I hope.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

“Ha. Stay out of trouble. And try to get Takeru off his phone; I swear he’s glued to the thing.”

 _Speaking of phones,_ Oikawa remembers as he takes his phone out of his breast pocket and opens up a new message, _I have to text Mattsun._

****

_(September 2012)_

Oikawa couldn’t really place it; put there was just something about Nakahara Midori that didn’t seem _right._

Mattsun and Makki had laughed when he voiced it out loud.

“Yeah, she’s probably the first girl ever not to swoon over you,” Makki replied while accepting a piece of onigiri from Matsukawa’s bento lunch, “ah, thanks Issei.”

Oikawa doesn’t miss the way Matuskawa’s heavy-lidded eyes linger longer than normal on Makki’s profile, watching the way he licks his lips before he starts devouring the rice ball. _Interesting,_ Oikawa thought eyeing the Matuskawa’s small smile, _but that would that would have to wait for now._

“It’s not that,” he retorts, turning around to resume looking down at the scene before him. An impromptu game of baseball was in full swing, with Iwaizumi and Kyoutani captaining each respective team. Nakahara was also there, standing on the outskirts with a couple of other third year girls. “She’s a bit overbearing, don’t you think?”

He thinks back over the last couple of months, where Nakahara had made herself present in almost all aspects of Iwaizumi Hajime’s life. She was there at volleyball practice, cheering a little too loudly from the top level of the gymnasium every time Iwaizumi would hit a no-touch ace or smashed a cross spike. During study periods – when he thought he’d be able to hang out with Iwaizumi in private at the back of the classroom, she’d manifest out of nowhere demanding Iwaizumi go over quadratic formulas with her again because no matter how much he’d already helped her it just _wasn’t sticking_. His only saving grace was that she hadn’t started following Iwaizumi home yet, or invited herself over to Iwaizumi’s place; so at least he could have Iwaizumi all to himself come home time.

Oikawa faces around to implore his friends, still occupied with lunch and not Oikawa’s current crisis, “it’s not just me, right? She’s always there. A _lways.”_

“Hanger-san, your jealousy is showing.” Makki mumbles around his onigiri.

Before he can reply back however, cheers and whooping erupt in the direction of the baseball game. By the looks of it, Iwaizumi had just hit a rather impressive home run. Midori – of course, was yelling the loudest, and Oikawa watched closely as she ran towards the celebratory circle Iwaizumi was in the centre of. His peripheral vision caught Makki and Mattsun coming to stand next to him on the roof ledge to check out the commotion.

“Kyoutani looks like he's going to have a coronary.” Mattsun chuckles, and sure enough there he is at second base glowering: his shoulders heaving up and down from exertion; his fists clenched as he grumbles out something to the pitcher who looks scared shitless.

“But he still looks like he wants to go up and kiss Iwaizumi’s bara-biceps,” Makki adds, flicking a piece of rice of his arm, “his biceps aren’t that great.”

“Say that all you want, you’re not going to beat him in arm-wrestling anytime soon with your scrawny chicken arms.” Matsukawa emphasises this by flicking Hanamaki’s arm and watches as the skin wobbles a bit in response.

“Hey! Does this look like scrawny,” Makki yells at Mattsun, flexing his arm and gesticulating wildly at his bicep muscle, “well, does it?!”

Oikawa pays them no mind and stares harder as Midori pushes her way through the crowd surrounding Iwaizumi. Before Oikawa can make a remark to reaffirm his previous comment about Nakahara’s overbearing personality, she launches herself at Hajime; arms wrapping around his torso, chest pressed up against his left arm as she lifts herself up to place a kiss on his cheek.

The kiss doesn’t last long – it’s just a quick, hard peck of the lips and it’s all over, but hot bile has already made its way up Oikawa’s throat. The shouting below gets louder with cries of _“get some, Iwaizumi!”_ and “ _you can do better than that, Nakahara-san!”_ and other catcalls from the boys playing, and the squeals of what he assumes to be Nakahara’s friends who are now mixed in with the crowd. Iwaizumi’s back is now facing the rooftop where Oikawa is, so he cannot see the expression his friend is making but he watches the way he hunches his shoulders up in embarrassment as rough hands come to pat his back and ruffle his hair.

He thinks back to that afternoon at the ice creamery, where he had heard those girls discussing the rumour of Iwaizumi and Nakahara kissing. _Perhaps it wasn’t a rumour after all._

“Oikawa. Oi, earth to Oikawa. You okay there, champ?”

“Hmm, oh, what were you saying?”

Makki and Mattsun are now looking at him worriedly. Makki steps closer and reaches out to grab Oikawa’s wrists, so he can pull them into view, “Oikawa, your palms are bleeding.”

Oikawa unclenches the fists he didn’t realise were balled up and stares down at the crescent-shaped – but superficial, cuts in his palms; watching the way a tiny trickle of blood rolls over the planes of his skin till it runs over the edge of his hand and plops onto the ground.

“Oh whoops, silly me! Looks like I’m going to have to pay nurse-chan a visit,” he turns away from his friends and paces quickly to door at the opposite end of the rooftop and throws a wave and wink over his shoulder, “maybe I can get a kiss to make it better and a lollipop.”

He expects a groan in response, perhaps a sigh even some exaggerated eye rolling, but instead Makki and Mattsun only look more concerned than they were before.

 

****

(February 2026)

 

It’s the crick in his neck that prompts him awake.

Matsukawa doesn’t know how long he’d remained lying asleep on his workshop floor, but judging by the light filtering through the window he can safely assume it’s now morning.

As he looks around his workshop he notices the chair that had overturned and the work tools now scattered on the floor. _So that’s what the noise was when I had, um, landed._

A little dazed, he turns onto his hands and knees and crawls over to his chair and tools to right them, and as he turns back to do a double check that he had gotten everything he notices _it._

He scrambles forward, worried it had damaged during his crash landing. He picks it up slowly rotating _it_ to check all sides and is satisfied to see that there’s no external damage to _it_.

_But that doesn’t mean there’s internal damage._

Matsukawa stands up and sets _it_ on his workstation, already reaching for his microscope glasses and required tools to take _it_ apart, movements practiced and precise. It takes him the better half of an hour to ascertain if there is any damage – which there’s not, and to put it back together again.

 _Thank god,_ he sighs as he looks up to the ceiling, the relief is short-lived when he sees that the light is still on, _Crap, the electricity bill._

He realises just how tired he is as he makes his way over to the light switch, feet shuffling against the carpeted floor. _Well you haven’t properly slept in twenty four hours_ , his mind supplies helpfully as he flicks the light off. Since he doesn’t have much planned for the rest of the day, Matsukawa decides that playing catch up with his sleeping schedule sounds like a good idea. He goes back to his workstation to collect his phone and _it_ before heading upstairs, and notices a new message notification on his phone screen.

 

_[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** Mattsun! You’ll never guess where I am!]_

Matsukawa is too tired to humour Oikawa.

 

_[ **To: Oikawa Tooru** : Just tell me.]_

_[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** You’re no fun, Mattsun. I’m in Sendai! We should catch up :)]_

Considering what he had just gone through that morning, Oikawa’s request for a catch up is perfect timing. He quickly goes through the logistics of work he still needs to do and upcoming deadlines as he goes up the stairs before texting Oikawa back.

 

_[ **To: Oikawa Tooru:** Sounds good. When were you thinking? I’m free after Tuesday.]  _

_[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** After Tuesday works for me! I’ll have to ask Makki though.]  _

This almost wakes him up completely.

 

_[ **To: Oikawa Tooru:** Makki?]_

_[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** Yup! He has two weeks off and said he’d be coming down to Sendai to see his parents. So he’ll be in town too! It’ll be nice for the three of us to hang out together!]_

_That sneaky shit._

 

Well if Oikawa had brought Hanamaki up, it was highly likely he had discussed it with him already, and by the looks of it he’s agreed to the catch up – and to be in the same room as his ex.

_Will my plan work out if Oikawa and Hanamaki are both there?_

Deciding to come back to it later, Matsukawa continues up to the top floor, puts his phone and _it_ down on the kitchen table, then strips down and lobs his clothes in the general direction of his washing basket. Being a smartass, he gets into the shower, stands under the spray long after he’s finished washing himself then turns the water off. He towels himself off as walks to his bedroom to fish out a pair of boxers. When goes back to the kitchen table to check his phone, his satisfied to see a few antsy messages from Oikawa. 

_Serves Oikawa right._

_[ **To: Oikawa Tooru:** Yeah, text me the details. I’ll see you then.]  _

_[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** Fantastic! I’ll let you know, Mattsun! :)] _

He tosses his phone back on the table and picks up _it_ before he heads back to his bedroom for a well-deserved sleep.

 

****

_(September 2012)_

Since the lunch time baseball game two weeks ago, Oikawa had been growing more despondent than usual Hanamaki notices. He tells Matsukawa this during afternoon practice as they watch Oikawa hit jump serve after jump serve, ignoring the worried glances Iwaizumi was shooting his way. It didn’t help matters as much that Nakahara-san was also there, leaning against the railing and clapping excitedly every time Iwaizumi so much as looked at a volleyball.  

“At first I thought he was exaggerating with Nakahara-san _this_ and Nakahara-san _that_ , but now that I think about, she is quite – well – annoying,” Hanamaki elaborates, heaving the net pole onto his shoulder, “plus I don’t think Oikawa’s really had to vie for Iwaizumi’s time and attention before.”

“Oikawa already has Iwaizumi’s time and attention,” Matsukawa grunts lifting his own net pole, “honestly, I don’t think he’s interested in Nakahara-san at all.”

“Tell him that before he burns a hole into the gym floor, or tell Iwaizumi to pull his finger out and tell Nakahara he’s got big ol’ full homo feelings for angry boi over there.”

“I’m staying out of it,” Matsukawa answers as they reach the store room and lift their respective net poles and place them onto the rack, “nothing good ever happens when you meddling in other people’s affairs.”

“Bullshit, you’re always eavesdropping when B1 and B2 over there have their little D&Ms in the locker rooms. I would know since we’ve been hiding in lockers, behind doors and around corners since first year in hopes to get some embarrassing shit to blackmail them with.”

“This is different.” Matsukawa replies using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he walks back out into the gymnasium. It seems Iwaizumi has now managed to get Oikawa’s full attention in the form of a well-thrown volleyball to the head by the looks of the way Oikawa is theatrically holding his forehead.

 _They’re talking it through, that’s good. Plus,_ Matsukawa notes as he looks around the gym, _there’s no Nakahara in sight._

“Different how?” Hanamaki has stopped next to him and folds his arms across his chest. His glaring at him like he thinks Matsukawa is having him on. _Cute,_ Matsukawa thinks. 

“Well, there’s someone else involved. I don’t know much about Nakahara-san, but from what I’ve seen, she’s persistent enough to ruffle Oikawa’s feathers. If she’s willing to go that far, then I don’t want to be on the receiving end of it.” he watches as Oikawa huffs at something Iwaizumi says and squawks as Iwaizumi wraps an arm around his neck to deliver an aggressively affectionate nuggie.

“Besides, I think they’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Oikawa goes to see Iwaizumi's family + the long-awaited catch up with our favourite three musketeers
> 
> P.S. the mystery behind what 'it' is will be revealed - where's the fun if there's no mystery?


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! 
> 
> I think I went a little crazy with the turnover rate with the first few chapters - and it's caught up to me. Therefore, I think it's a little more realistic for me to say chapters might be posted within a 1-3 week period. This chapter is a little longer than the others (that's my other excuse). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! Smash the comment, kudo, bookmark and subscribe button! ^_^

**CHAPTER THREE**

_(October 2012)_

_Stupid Ushiwaka,_ Oikawa scowls to himself as he walks away from the Shiratorizawa captain, _of all people I had to run into._

It was bad enough their team had suffered a crushing defeat to Karasuno only minutes ago, but to have Ushijima come up to him and spout all that nonsense about him choosing the wrong path like the broken record he was, was the cherry on top of what was the already horrendous day. What hurts him the most is that he knows his team was strong – he couldn’t fault any of his teammates, but Karasuno had been stronger and he couldn’t fault that either.

But right now there were more pressing matters, like rounding up everyone before the bus left. By ‘everyone’ he really meant Iwaizumi. Shortly after offloading his belongings onto the bus with the other third years he had muttered quietly that he needed to use the bathroom and had hurried off back into the building. It was unsettling, to see someone like Iwaizumi – who had such a strong mental fortitude, so despondent.

He’s about to round the corner when he hears Iwaizumi’s voice along with another one he knows all too well.

“—but you played so well. You deserved to win.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi’s voice croaks out, “but they were stronger.”

Oikawa peeks around the corner and sure enough there’s Iwaizumi standing a few feet away from the boy’s bathroom. Of course Nakahara Midori is there too and is standing way too close to Hajime. A homemade teal megaphone – that they hand out to students that come along to cheer at matches, stuffed into her jacket pocket.

“Oh, Hajime-kun,” Nakahara simpers sympathetically, moving closer to gently lay her hand on his forearm, and Oikawa can feel his blood pressure rising at the use of Iwaizumi’s first name. “Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll be over it in a week’s time.”

 _How dare she,_ Oikawa’s mind rages, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, _how dare she!_

Oikawa really shouldn’t be here spying on the two, and quite frankly, he could think of nothing worse than witnessing this _intimate_ moment between his childhood friend and this scheming little flirt, who didn’t seem to comprehend the gravity of what that match had meant to their team – what it had meant to Iwaizumi. But he can’t back away, as much as would break his heart to have his suspicions confirmed that they were in fact dating, the noisy part of him – which he avidly denies exists within him – wants to see it for himself, needs to.

He watches with bated breath as Nakahara leans up and forward, arms snaking their way up Iwaizumi’s shoulders, rising up onto her toes, her lips already puckered, eyes shutting, approaching closer and closer –

“Oikawa-san.” a small voice peeps out behind him, causing him to whirl around and out of sight from Iwaizumi and Nakahara.

_You’ve got to be joking, of all times to be interrupted. Of all times!_

A red-eyed Kindaichi and a bored-looking Kunimi are standing there, looking at him strangely.

“A-ah,” Kindaichi stutters, “just letting you know, everyone except for you and Iwaizumi-san is back at the bus.”

“Have you found Iwaizumi-san?” Kunimi asks.

“I think he’s still in the bathroom,” Oikawa replies, trying to keep his volume down. He starts walking towards them for good measure hoping they’ll follow him and forget why he was hugged up against the wall like an idiot. “I certainly hope he hasn’t drowned in there.”  

“Isn’t the toilet back that way?” Kunimi supplies helpfully, thumb jutted towards the corner Oikawa had been lurking behind.

“Uh well—”

Oikawa grits his teeth as he watches in defeat as Kunimi and Kindaichi wander over, only for a flustered-looking Iwaizumi to round the corner.

“Iwaizumi-san,” Kindaichi exclaims “We were just looking for you!”

“Everyone’s waiting for you and Oikawa-san.” Kunimi adds, stifling a yawn.

Iwaizumi directs his gaze to Oikawa questioningly before walking towards them, “Sorry about that, had to use the bathroom.”

“Let’s go.” Oikawa says.

He turns around avoiding eye contact and starts heading back towards the front of the building, the others following closely behind. When they reach the bus, all but four seats have been taken. The coaches nod to them as they pass them in the aisle, and Oikawa watches as Kunimi and Kindaichi take up two seats at the front. Iwaizumi and he head to back of the bus where they normally sit behind Makki and Mattsun. Makki has his head resting on Mattsun’s shoulder, eyes shut, but Mattsun notices them as they pass him and sends them a weak smile before returning to his phone. Oikawa takes the window seat, immediately turning to look out the window as Iwaizumi settles into the seat next to him. In the reflection of the window, Oikawa can see Iwaizumi lean back in his seat as he pulls his sports jacket over his head, the engine rumbling to life as the bus starts to roll forward from the curb.

The rest of the afternoon is strangely cathartic; eating too much ramen, yelling until his voice was hoarse, playing volleyball with the others until he felt like barfing, and crying until there were no tears left. He had almost forgotten about the awkwardness from before with Iwaizumi but the feeling creeps on him again as they exchange goodbyes with the others, and Iwaizumi and he start walking home together. As they pass the vending machines along the street, the playground and the residential housing Oikawa thinks perhaps he should be the one to break the silence, but then Iwaizumi speaks.

His words are sincere, and although Oikawa acts offended and accuses Iwaizumi of placing a curse on him, he is awed by Iwaizumi's words, so much so he can’t possibly retort back with one of his usual jibes.

It’s in this moment, Oikawa realises, that there probably won’t be any other person in his life who would understand him better than Hajime; a person who knew the inner workings of the gaudy, non-genius, overworking setter Oikawa Tooru better than Oikawa does himself.

There will probably be no one he could love more than Iwaizumi Hajime.

And he wasn’t going to let Nakahara Midori get in his way.

 

(February 2026)

 

A couple of days later, Oikawa finds himself at the front of the Iwaizumi household.

Unlike his childhood home that had become more modernised over the years due to the frequent decor changes at his mother’s insistence, the Iwaizumi place is more traditional and has barely changed much since his childhood. It’s a single storey home erected from wood with a small forest backing onto the backyard, where Iwa-chan and he had foraged and explored every nook and cranny of for beetles. An engawa – which wraps around the back portion of the house, had been a popular spot for sleepovers during the summer months, with both the amado and shoji panels opened up to let in the cool evening breeze. He can’t recall how many nights the both of them spent sprawled on the tatami mats bickering over who’d caught the most bugs that day and who could eat the most dango in one sitting.

His attention is drawn to the now shaking shrub in the front yard. Shuffling around the garden is Iwaizumi’s father, shovel in hand as he inspects the line-up of shrubs, dusting off his pant bottoms as he does so.

“It looks a little lopsided.”

Without turning around, Iwaizumi’s father puffs out a laugh, “I’d like to see you do better, kid.”

“Gardening isn’t my forte. Maybe once I retire and have a head full of grey hairs, perhaps?”  

“You little smartass,” Iwaizumi-san grits out, turning around. Broad in stature with tanned skin, Hajime’s father only comes up to Oikawa’s shoulder but demands twice the respect all the same. A bull-headed, but reliable man, he is very much like a second father to him; always offering sound advice and a reality check whenever Oikawa needed it. It’s probably where Hajime got it from. “Er, maybe not so little.”

Oikawa steps through the front gate and follows the stone pathway over to where Iwaizumi-san is standing by the small bushes and shrubbery, “I’m not a kid anymore either.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” he grumbles arm flying out to give him a solid pat on the arm. Somehow it feels like he’s a naughty child being reprimanded, “It’s good to see you, Tooru. It’s been too long since I last saw you.”

“Yeah, it has been.”

“Hmm, well, let’s not stand here collecting dust, let’s go inside. It’s almost lunchtime.”

Oikawa follows Iwaizumi-san into the house, toeing off his shoes in the genkan and slipping into the house slippers.

“Dear, guess who’s come around to visit?”                              

“What? Hold on a second I’m in the kitchen. I hope you’re not tracking dirt into the house, I only vacuumed just—oh—Tooru!”

Before he can answer, she’s already hurtling down the hallway and pulling him into a bone crushing – but not unwelcome – hug, “It’s so good to see you; it’s been far too long,” she pulls him away to inspect him at arm’s length, then reaches up to pinch his cheek, “you’ve lost weight.”  

“No I—”

“You have, I can see it in your face. I can also see the dark circles under your eyes too—”

“—I don’t have—”

“You’re staying back late at the school again?”

“Not always—”

“Tooru.”

“Exam season was quite busy this semester. It’s perfectly normal for teachers to stay back to grade papers. Sometimes we even have to take papers home. It’s no big—”

“ _Tooru_.”

It feels like a familiar conversation, but instead the topic isn’t of staying late to practice his jump serves and straining his knee but grading papers early into the morning and forgetting to eat three meals a day. Olive green eyes are looking up at him fiercely, but they don’t belong to the person who had once head-butted him and then had brought him milk bread on the way home afterwards as an apology for making his nose bleed.

“I’m really okay, oba-san.”

Iwaizumi’s mother levels him with an exasperated look, then sighs, “Very well. But if you look like that next time you visit, I’ll give you a hiding. You need to look after yourself. Promise me?”

“Yes, yes okay, I promise.”

“Good! Now, I’m preparing lunch and I need an extra set of hands.”

Oikawa shuffles after her to the kitchen. It’s been a while since he’s prepared a home-cooked meal. Back at home in Chiba when he isn’t skipping meals he usually orders takeout or gets bento boxes from the local convenience store, and over the last few days his mother had been waving him away whenever he offers his help in the kitchen. It still doesn’t stop her from complaining about all the lack of help she has around the house though.

In front of him, Iwaizumi’s mother comes to sudden stop and Oikawa has to grab onto the nearby doorframe to prevent himself from walking right into her. “Go say hello to Hajime, I’ll begin preparing the lunch.” she says softly.

The kamidana is located at the back of the house, past the kitchen in Hajime’s old bedroom. He swallows before he enters, steeling himself; he really doesn’t want to get upset, not right now, not in front of Iwaizumi’s parents.

Like all the other times Oikawa has been to Hajime’s bedroom to pay his respects, the room has remained relatively undisturbed and is meticulously clean. The bedding linen has long been stripped and stored away, a few cardboard boxes – containing Hajime’s old things, now resting on top of its frame. The shelving on the left wall still holds the Godzilla figurine Oikawa had given Iwaizumi for his tenth birthday, several volleyball medals and trophies spanning from Kitagawa Daiichi to university level, photo frames and stacks of magazines and books; the old volleyball they used to toss around in the backyard is resting on the bottom shelf, deflated. The curtains are pulled ajar all the way to let in the natural light through the window.

The wardrobe is still standing in the far right corner of the room, but it is now the makeshift shrine; its doors permanently left opened. There’s already incense burning on the bottom shelf adjacent to the single photo frame of Hajime – a young boy of seven with a bug net slung over his shoulder, scrapes and band aids littering his dirty forearms and shins, and a toothy grin as he gives the camera a peace sign. Oikawa had been there when the photo was taken, his brown hair just visible in the bottom right corner of the photo if you looked carefully.

Oikawa kneels onto the zabuton in front of the small shrine and reaches for another incense stick and the box of matches on the floor of the wardrobe and lights the incense, placing it alongside the already lit one. Placing his hands together he bows his head, closing his eyes as he pays his respects in silence. He doesn’t feel like talking to Hajime today, content as he is sitting there quietly. He eventually opens his eyes and scans the inside of the shrine, and isn’t surprised when he his gaze comes to rest on a thin scrapbook album sitting at the back of the wardrobe. He reaches for it – not for the first time – and flips it open and begins flicking through the pages. The first half of the book is photos of Iwaizumi as a baby, a child – there’s heaps of the two of them together – of him playing volleyball, graduating from high school, their graduation party, and then university, there’s also wedding photos too and candid shots of Iwaizumi holding Kin as a newborn. After that are the newspaper clippings of Iwaizumi’s accident and the obituary. He’s pretty sure by now he can recite them all off by heart – he has his own copy of them back at his place – but he reads through them anyway.

 

_YOKOHAMA TIMES_

_By Eti Akane_

_January 6 2021_

_A man has passed away in a motor vehicle accident, which occurred yesterday evening after 5pm. A witness reported that the man ‘lost control’ when turning a corner._

_‘The rain was horrendous, and the driver lost control of his car and ploughed right into a nearby tree.’_

_Superintendent Masaki said specialists have reviewed the scene and the vehicle._

_‘We suspect the man lost control of the car in yesterday’s wet conditions and oversteered. As a result, the weight of the car was thrown forward, with the rear end of the car launching out sideways into a nearby tree.’_

_The man killed in the accident has been identified as 28-year-old Iwaizumi Hajime, father of one. He was declared dead at the scene._

_This is not the first accident to occur at this controversial corner –_

 

Oikawa slams the album shut and places it back in the wardrobe.

_Damn it._

Oikawa slaps his cheeks, hoping the pain will distract his mind from the sadness and wills himself to get up and get out of Iwaizumi’s room before the tears start to fall. He makes a quick detour to the bathroom, and splashes cold water on his face, hoping the Iwaizumi's parents won’t notice his watery eyes or the redness in his cheeks. If the Iwaizumis' notice his appearance when he finally makes his way into the kitchen they don’t comment on it, Hajime’s mother only smiles gently at him while she hands him cutlery to put out.

The preparation doesn’t take long with three people, and soon enough the three of them are sitting down around the chabudai for lunch. They make small talk for a while, about Oikawa’s work and Iwaizumi’s mother’s volunteer work at the city library. Iwaizumi’s father inquires about his sister and Takeru, which somehow leads to the topic of Midori.

“I actually saw her recently.” Oikawa pipes in.

“Did you now?” Iwaizumi father replies giving his wife a look.

“Yes,” Oikawa starts, eyes shifting between the pair, “I went to the cemetery in Yokohama to see Hajime, and she turned up with Kin.”

“You saw Kin-chan? How is she?” Iwaizumi’s mother asks eagerly.

“Ah well, I didn’t stay long after they got there. Midori wanted to pay respects to her husband in private, you see. Kin-chan seemed well from what I saw. Why?”

“We just haven’t seen Kin-chan or Midori in a while.”

“Oh, like a couple of weeks?”

“Try six months.” Iwaizumi dad says folding his arms across his chest frowning.

 _What,_ Oikawa’s mind screams.

“Has she at least called you?”

“We’ve called her, but she tells us she’s too busy to come to Sendai to visit and that she doesn’t know when she’ll get the chance too,” Iwaizumi’s parents look defeated, “We’ve offered to come up and help with babysitting but apparently Kin-chan is already in day care or is at her other grandparents.

Oikawa is stunned to say the least. _Was Midori really keeping the Iwaizumi’s from seeing their granddaughter?_

“I can’t believe she’s doing this,” Oikawa’s hands come to rest on his knees, gripping hard, “brushing me off is one thing – we’ve never really gotten along, but her in-laws?”

“It must be hard being a working, single mother.” Iwaizumi’s mother tries to reason, but even she looks doubtful.

“But it’s your granddaughter for goodness sake.”

“We know, Tooru,” Iwaizumi father sighs, “There’s only so much we can call.”

“I’ll call her.” Oikawa says subconsciously reaching for his mobile phone in his pant pocket.

“Do you really think she’ll listen to you?” Iwaizumi's father runs his hand through his short, spiky hair.

“Probably not, but I suppose there’s no harm in trying.”

“Tooru, honey, we appreciate the gesture,” Iwaizumi’s mother reaches for Oikawa’s hand, “but that could make matters worse. We’ll make sure we see Kin-chan, whether Midori wants us to or not.”

Oikawa relents, for now. _Next time I run into Midori-chan, I’ll give her a piece of my mind._

“Very well.” he concedes, reaching for his glass to have a drink of water. He takes sip, trying to swallow down the burning fury that’s wormed its way into his throat. The Iwaizumi’s are the most kind-hearted, loving people he knows and for Midori to limit the time they get to spend with their son’s daughter is simply cruel.

 _It shouldn’t really come to a surprise_ , Oikawa muses as the three resume eating again in awkward silence; she _had always been a pro at monopolising Hajime’s time. Of course it would carry onto Hajime’s daughter too._

“Speaking of people we haven’t seen in a while,” Iwaizumi mother starts trying to steer the conversation into safer, calmer territory, “how is Makki and Mattsun? Mattsun has been terribly busy at his shop, so he hasn’t come over lately. And hasn’t Makki gone overseas?”

Oikawa perks at this, “Makki has been back from his trip for a few days now, and he’s actually coming down to visit his parents tomorrow. Since he’s staying for a few days I’ve organised for the three of us to catch up – it’s been a while since all the three of us have gotten together.”  

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I sure hope they come over to visit.”

“I’m sure Makki will want to come say hello and Mattsun should be free now as well, seeing as he is all finished with this project he’s been working on. I’ll make sure to usher them here personally.”

“So they’re both going to be in the same room together?” Iwaizumi’s dad asks.

“Ah yes.”

Oikawa had been a little worried when Mattsun had taken a while to reply back when he first mentioned the catch up with Makki in a text a couple of days ago, but Mattsun had assented. What was more nerve wrecking was when he had called Makki to confirm when he would be coming down and if he was still keen on catching up. Considering how _well_ their last meet up had gone the year before – Makki making snarky remarks and Mattsun sitting quietly in the corner, hardly saying a word until they said their goodbyes – Oikawa was expecting Makki to change his mind; he was obstinate like that. But no, he had also agreed – chewing Oikawa out for asking him a second time, and was going to meet them in town for drinks Friday evening.

What was even more surprising was Mattsun’s suggestion of a night cap at his place afterwards, in a text to Oikawa the following day. He had been very insistent, and had made Oikawa promise that he wouldn’t tell Makki about the arrangement in case he declined going. Oikawa had thought it odd, but he supposed it was a good sign Mattsun was making the effort.

“Have things gotten better between them?”

“Well...they both agreed to it? I didn’t have to beg as much this time, which is a good sign. ”

“It’s such a shame,” Iwaizumi’s mother murmurs as she pours more tea into each of their cups, “they were such a good pair.”

“Yeah,” Oikawa agrees, thanking her quietly for the tea and taking a quick sip, “they were.”   

 

_(December 2012)_

Lunchtime is peaceful and quiet for once. No impromptu games of baseball, no hordes of girls following him around, and best of all no Nakahara to inject her way into Iwaizumi’s business. He hears Mattsun and Makki chuckling to themselves somewhere behind him. Last time he checked they were sharing a desk and a set of earphones, watching something – probably some silly fail compilation video – on Matsukawa’s phone. 

In light of the Miyagi’s Spring High Representative Playoffs, it seemed the two were now officially dating, which was 100% confirmed when he had stumbled upon the two making out in the storage room after practice a few weeks ago; the ribbing he had received from the both of them for being the one to catch them had been mortifying.

_“Oh, Hanger-san, we didn’t see you there!” Makki replied as he pulled away for Mattsun with a smacking sound._

_“Uh.”_

_“I think we broke him.” Mattsun breathed out sounding mildly out of breath; his lips a swollen red-pink._

_Oikawa had spluttered, “I-I am not broken! What are you two doing?!”_

_“I think the word you’re looking for is sucking face.” Makki had smirked._

_“I prefer tongue wrestling.” Mattsun had quipped back, sneaking his arm around Makki’s waist and yanking him closer._

_“Hmm, don’t forget tonsil hockey.”_

_“Frenching”_

_“Swapping spit—”_

_“Both of you stop that!” Oikawa had yelped._

_“What.” they replied in unison._

_“That.” Oikawa growls, pointing at the two of them: Makki was currently squeezing Mattsun’s ass cheek, while Mattsun was levelling Makki with what could only be described as bedroom eyes. Oikawa really needed to stop them before they started going at it again. “And also that stupid thing where you finish each other’s sentences. You’re lucky it was me who walked in on the both of you!”_

_“Yeah, lucky.”_

_“Stop joking around! What if it had been one the coaches?!”_

_“The coaches have already left, Oikawa. We literally said goodbye to them ten minutes ago.”_

_“But—”_

_“Ok, calm down, Oikawa, don’t short-circuit,” Makki sighs, sidling up to his captain, “Look it probably wasn’t the best place to have an impromptu make out sesh, but can you blame us, Issei just asked me out officially.”_

_“Wait, what?” Oikawa replied._

_“It was really romantic, you should’ve been there,” Mattsun adds, bumping his shoulder with Makki’s, “but yeah, we’re bona fide boyfriends now.”_

_He’s a little winded by the announcement – he had obviously not been expecting this whole scenario, but the happiness bubbling within him is too much to bottle in, so he launches himself at his friends, sending them all three of them flying onto the gym mats stacked up on the floor._

_“Congratulations, Mattsun, Makki! How exciting! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to ask Makki out, Mattsun! Wait, am I the first one to hear about this? Oh, where are you going to go for your first date? Personally I think—”_

_“This is why I didn’t say anything.” Mattsun deadpanned._

_“Mattsun, how rude! I’ll have you know—”_

_“Oi, what are you three doing?” Iwaizumi’s voice had barked from the doorway, “The gym isn’t going to clean itself you know.”_

_“Looks the threesome has just become a foursome,” Makki had jeered, throwing his free arm out wide in a welcoming gesture, “come join us Iwaizumi. The more the merrier.”_

_Wiggling his eyebrows, Mattsun chorused, “I know you’re busy, Iwaizumi, but can you add us to your to-do list?”_

_Those shameless idiots,_ Oikawa grouses to himself as he recalls the memory. 

Since then he’d been hyper aware of the two: of the way they would linger back when walking home from practice so they could hold hands and whisper among themselves, the extra bento Makki would pull out at lunch and the home-cooked profiteroles Mattsun returned in kind, and the affectionate way Mattsun would ruffle at Makki’s hair when they greeted each in the morning. It was just so endearing and sweet that Oikawa couldn’t help but feel jealous. He felt horrible for feeling that way: they were his best friends and they deserved all the happiness in the world, but seeing the two of them all coupley and romantic only reminded him of his shitty circumstances.

He’d vowed to himself that night after their loss against Karasuno that he wouldn’t let anyone get in his way when it came to Iwaizumi anymore. What further helped his case was upcoming graduation party for the third years. There had been a discussion yesterday morning during homeroom to ask if any students wanted to volunteer in organising the event, and although it was still a while away – it wouldn’t be till March next year after their final exams, the class had erupted into excited chatter about venues and themes and hadn’t shut up about it until the homeroom teacher threatened them with detention. When things had calmed down and the class had resumed, Oikawa couldn’t help but overhear a conversation between two girls sitting behind him.

_“Who are you going to ask to the party, Mei-chan?”_

_“What do you mean who I’m going to ask? It’s more than three months away, it’s way too early!”_

_“I’ll bet my bento lunch all the good ones will be taken within two weeks! You need to get in fast if you’ll want a date.”_

The words had resonated with Oikawa. Perhaps this would be his chance to declare his feelings once and for all to Iwaizumi and put an end to all this ridiculous second guessing and suffering. Better yet, getting rid of the pesky Nakahara from Iwaizumi’s life would be more satisfying than seeing a volley ball hit Ushiwaka in his big, stupid face.

_Well, no time like the present._

Iwaizumi is sprawled out across the desk next to him, neck tie loosened and thrown haphazardly over his shoulder; his top two buttons on his pale purple uniform undone despite the winter chilliness. Apparently he had a surprise English exam before lunch and it had been difficult. English wasn’t Iwa-chan’s forte to begin with, so this had been a rather unpleasant experience. Oikawa hesitates a moment. Maybe tomorrow would be better, seeing as Iwa-chan didn’t appear to be in the mood for anything other than wallowing in self despair.

 _No!_ His mind admonishes, _Do it now!_

He scans the classroom, which is practically full of students who are huddled together by the heater and drinking hot chocolate or soup from their thermos’, and decides that if he’s going to do this it would be best Iwaizumi and he go somewhere private – Iwaizumi was never one for being in the limelight, and he doesn’t want anyone hearing this particular conversation.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Mmmm?” Iwaizumi doesn’t lift his head up from the desk.

“Want to go for a walk?”

“Why? It’s cold out.”

“Just a quick one? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Iwaizumi peeks up from his folded arms, “Talk about what?”

Oikawa wants to pull his hair out _. Of all times for Iwaizumi to be stubborn!_

“Please.” Oikawa says mustering Iwaizumi with the sternest look he can, even as his heart thumps faster in his chest.

“Is everything okay?” Iwaizumi sits up fully now, body facing Oikawa’s.

“Yes,” he rushes out, standing up and sending his chair sliding back to whack into the desk behind him. He can hear Makki yelp and Mattsun exclaim something in surprise but he pays him no mind, “but I really need to talk to you.”

“Ok ok.” Iwaizumi says standing up too, pushing his chair in. Oikawa doesn’t bother with his own chair, marching forward and pushing on Iwaizumi’s back to urge him on quicker.

 _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ is Oikawa’s incredulous thought as they manoeuvre around the desks, Iwaizumi grumbling at Oikawa to stop rushing him.

As they reach the classroom door, Iwaizumi halts in front of him causing Oikawa to walk smack bang into him.

“Iwa-chan, what the—”  

“Hajime-kun.” a voice says sweetly but with underlying steeliness to it, and Oikawa really can’t believe his luck.

“Nakahara-san,” Iwaizumi returns, “uh what—”

“Hajime-kun,” she repeats louder than before. Over Iwaizumi’s shoulder, he can she her inching closer, her arms crossed behind her back in an act to look coy and innocent, “there’s something I need to—”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa interrupts briskly. There’s no way in hell he’s going to let her get the first word in, “we gotta get going.”

“Nakahara-san,” Iwaizumi adds politely, “Oikawa and I need to do something. Can it wait?”

“It’ll only take a minute.” she insists.

The other students in the classroom are watching the exchange between the three of them now and Oikawa starts to feel anxious. All he wanted to do was get out of the classroom, get Iwaizumi somewhere quiet and confess his feelings – that’s all, and now freakin’ Nakahara turns up to wanting to flirt.

_C’mon, spit out what ever bullshit out you need to. What subject do you need Iwaizumi’s help with this time?_

“I was wondering,” she says just loud enough for the classroom to hear. She actually has the gall to pause for dramatic effect and Oikawa rolls his eyes, how pathetic, “if you would like to go to the graduation party with me; as my date.”

_Oh no._

Oikawa chokes on air as the rest of students in the classroom gush out excited squeals and hollers of ‘say yes’. Some are even banging away at the desks in agreement. The noise is deafening, as Oikawa stands there in stupor looking at Iwaizumi’s back. He’s starting to hunch over a little bit, probably not liking all the attention sent his way. His ears are also red, Oikawa notices.

_Say no. Please say no._

“Ah, sure.” is Iwaizumi’s weak, but affirmative reply.

Nakahara leaps at Iwaizumi, giggling happily as other students – mostly girls come running up to congratulate the pair. He feels Makki settle next to him, Mattsun behind him, both wearing neutral expressions on their face.

“Oikawa,” Makki starts, putting his hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, “are you alr—”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Oikawa turns to face his friends, a megawatt smile planted on his face, “our brute of an ace just scored himself a date. The Great Oikawa-san is proud! I would stay longer, but I’ve just remembered I have to speak to sensei about something. Tell Iwa-chan I said congratulations.”

He heads for the doorway before they can reply, giving Iwaizumi, Nakahara and his peers a wide berth as he goes.

 

(February 2026)

 

 _I really am a masochist,_ he thinks derisively as he walks down the street into the main drag.

Hanamaki can’t believe he’s doing this – meeting up with his ex, back in their hometown on Friday night, when he can easily be back at home playing monopoly with his parents or something.

He supposes it can’t be as bad as their last encounter. He probably set the record for ‘the quickest amount of time taken for a person to get pissed off at their ex’, but who could blame him. Matsukawa had barely acknowledged him last time: his head buried in his phone taping away furtively. When Hanamaki had caught what he was looking at – eBay listings for pendulums, he decided to give Matsukawa a piece of his mind, while Oikawa had sat between the two of them desperately trying to keep the peace.

He really does owe it to Oikawa – if it weren’t for him, he probably would’ve ripped Matsukawa a new one.

So he decides right then and there that tonight he’ll be civil. If Matsukawa decides to play on his phone, he’ll turn a blind eye; Oikawa had gone great lengths to get all three of them here in Sendai, it wouldn’t feel right to undo all his hard work to reconcile with his best friends.

And who knows, maybe they’ll all get along like they used to? Maybe Matsukawa and he can be amicable for once? Maybe they can start trying to be friends again?

The izakaya is up ahead tucked between a ramen shop and a Western-styled restaurant and at the front already leaning up against the wall waiting are Oikawa and Matsukawa. They’re decked out in their warm clothes – Oikawa in his glasses and fashionable brown trench coat and Matsukawa in his black, too-old anorak.

 _He still has that thing?_ Hanamaki ponders as he walks onwards.

“Oh, Makki! Over here!”

“Use your inside voice, Oikawa.” he drawls coming to stop, smirking at the pout forming on Oikawa’s face.

A deep chuckle from behind Oikawa sobers him up, and he watches as Matsukawa straightens up from his lean against the wall, standing to his full height. He still has a few good centimetres on Hanamaki – he notices with annoyance, and it still looks like he isn’t getting enough sleep. But still, he has to give credit where credit is due:    

_He’s still handsome as fuck._

“Matsukawa.” he acknowledges, nodding once.

“Hanamaki.” Matsukawa returns. Hanamaki isn’t as blind as Oikawa – he didn’t miss the small, relieved smile pulling at Matsukawa’s lips.

Although things are still stilted between Matsukawa and him, the evening at the izakaya goes off without a hitch. Oikawa talks about his job and rips on his asshole colleague Yoshimura. Oikawa is flushed pink from the seven whiskies, while Hanamaki nurses his second gin and tonic as he relays anecdotes about his trip overseas and complains about his lack of social life.

“My boss is riding my ass.” he groans. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Matsukawa bite back something – most likely some quip at Hanamaki’s unintended sexual innuendo, and Hanamaki finds himself wishing he’d just come right out and say it for old time’s sake.

 _It must be the alcohol,_ he muses, taking another swig.

Matsukawa has barely touched his second beer and is reserved like always, adding snippets here and there and not going into to heavy details about things. But there’s also a strange buzzing energy around him, like he knows something they don’t know. It’s maddening – that he can’t pinpoint what’s on Matsukawa’s mind when he used to be a pro at it.

He sneaks a glance to his watch and balks at the realisation that they’ve almost been here for three hours.

“It’s getting late,” he starts, showing his watch to the other two for proof, “I might head off.”

Oikawa and Matsukawa share a look and Hanamaki raises his thin eyebrow when he notices Oikawa nudge Matsukawa – not so discretely, under the table.

“A-ah,” Matsukawa coughs, “actually I was wondering if the two of you would be interested in a nightcap at mine?”

“A nightcap,” Hanamaki deadpans, “at your place?”

“It’s not far, and it wouldn’t be for long,” Matsukawa insists, “I have left over beer that’s going to expire soon too.”

 _We’ve been drinking beer for the last three hours,_ Hanamaki’s mind argues. He looks over to Oikawa – who has obviously been in on this _nightcap_ prior to Matsukawa bringing it up, who is now giving Hanamaki his most pleading look complete with puppy dog eyes.

_You did say you were going to be civil tonight._

“Fine,” he sighs, “only an hour though, I’m beat.”

The walk isn’t long. They turn into Matsukawa’s quaint little neighbourhood, and stop at the front of a two storey townhouse that must be Matuskawa’s. Matsukawa leads them through what appears to be his workshop, which is littered with clocks, clock faces, pendulums, a few grandfather clocks, gears of various shapes and sizes and a whole lot of dust, to a set of stairs. His living space is a complete contrast to the cluttered workshop downstairs; it’s minimalistic and pretty clean. There’s a two seater lounge in the living room and a cushioned single-seater positioned perpendicular to it. A round, coffee table in the centre, which Hanamaki recognises as Matsukawa’s craftsmanship – it was the coffee table he had made for their apartment years ago. To his left is a small corridor, which probably leads to a bedroom and the bathroom – he can’t tell since the doors are closed, and to his right is the kitchen, which Matsukawa is now walking towards.

“Can I offer both of you a drink? There’s the beer, but I also have orange juice, tea and coffee?”

“Beer please, Mattsun.” Oikawa responds as he peruses the bookshelf behind them.

“A beer for me as well, thanks.” Hanamaki says in turn, joining Oikawa by the bookshelf.

“Hanging in there, Makki?” Oikawa whispers.

“Just – but no thanks to you. We’re gonna have words later, you and I. Don’t think I didn’t know you were in on this.”

“Heh. Well it worked out for the best didn’t it?”

Hanamaki grunts, “Yeah I guess it has.”

“I think Mattsun is really happy you came, Makki.”

Before can Hanamaki comment on it, Matsukawa has returned to the dining room and is setting down a case of beer on the table, “Here we go, fresh from the fridge.”

Matsukawa takes a seat on the single seater, a bottle of beer already opened in his hand, which leaves the two-seater for Oikawa and him. They grab their own beers and say their thanks. Hanamaki stretches out his legs, sinking into the cushiness of the soft lounge – which is far more comfortable than the hard, wooden chair back at the izakaya. He feels boneless, if it’s from the alcohol or the post-adrenaline rush associated with meeting up with Matsukawa he doesn’t know, but he does know that he doesn’t regret this evening. It was nice, all three of them together just like it used to be.

_It should be four not three._

“I went to see Iwaizumi’s parents early this week.” Oikawa pipes up. Hanamaki notices he’s already halfway through his beer.

“Oh? How are they? I’ve been meaning to go visit.” Matsukawa intones.

“They’re well. I told them the three of us were meeting up this week. They both miss the two of you.”

“I’ll probably head over there before I leave.” Hanamaki answers. He doesn’t know why he opens his mouth again, but the words come rushing out before he can fully comprehend them, “Did you want to come with me, Matsukawa?”

Next to him Oikawa splutters on his beer.

 _What the hell was that?!_ His mind screams in shock. He keeps his eyes locked on his beer and starts to fiddle with the sticker on the glass bottle hoping that the words will disappear into the night like a thief.

“I’d like that.”

Hanamaki head snaps up to look at Matsukawa, who has a surprised but warm look in his hooded eyes.

“Tsk, well I hope you can fit it into your busy schedule.” he counters back to save face.

“Makki.” Oikawa hisses, knocking him with his elbow.

“I’ll make the time.”

“Ha-ha! That’s great,” Oikawa intervenes, “I’m sure the Iwaizumis will be glad to see you!”

 _We weren’t arguing, Oikawa,_ Hanamaki thinks.

“They’re not getting many visitors these days.” is Oikawa’s odd statement.

“What?” is Matsukawa’s confused reply.

“Did you know,” Oikawa announces as he puts down his empty bottle. He takes out another bottle from the packaging, “that they haven’t seen their granddaughter in six months?”

Well that grabs his attention.

“Apparently, Midori-chan has been making bullshit excuses as to why she can’t bring Kin-chan to see her grandparents.”

“What do you mean?” Matsukawa inquires calmly. Hanamaki eyes the way Oikawa unscrews the lid and takes a long drag of beer. His eyes dart over to Matsukawa and sees the worry reflected right back at him.

_Fuck, this isn’t good._

Oikawa’s laugh is hollow. “It means sweet, little Midori-chan is keeping Kin-chan locked away, like some sort of dragon hording their treasure.”

They really should have cut Oikawa off from the drinks back at the bar. They both knew that as well as being a lightweight that when Oikawa drank he _drank_ , and now that the topic of Midori had been brought up, well – based on other times Oikawa talked about Midori – things were about to get intense.

 _I need to diffuse this quickly,_ Hanamaki decides, _before this gets out of control._

“Oikawa,” he says tentatively, “I know you and Midori-san don’t _get along,_ and while I don’t think it’s fair that she hasn't brought Kin to see her grandparents for a while, but, maybe she has things going on right now? She is a single mother, raising a child on her own.”

“Plus her grandparents do live in Sendai. That’s pretty far. I’m sure she’ll bring Kin up to see them soon.” Matsukawa adds. Hanamaki mentally thanks Matsukawa for tagging in.

“That’s a crock of shit and you know it!” Oikawa protests, placing his bottle back down on the coffee table with a loud _thwack._

He jumps back at the outburst and in his periphery he can see that Matsukawa has done the same thing. Before him Oikawa is trembling with anger, his hands now gripping his knees hard enough Hanamaki can see the skin of his knuckles blanching.

“Everything – _everything –_ bad that has happened is because of her! If Iwaizumi and her had never met, never interacted or dated or married, Iwaizumi would still be alive!” Oikawa stands up and starts pacing around the living room.

“Oikawa—”  

“Don’t tell me it’s all in my head or that I’m _jealous_.” Oikawa snaps at him.

“I’ve never said you were jealous!” Hanamaki protests swivelling in his seat to face him.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m jealous though, does it?! Iwaizumi is dead. Long gone,” Oikawa continues. His words are bitter and harsh and the expression on his face is wild. “I’ll never see him smile again, or have a volley ball thrown to the back of my head, or see the vein that bulges on his forehead when he’s angry. I won’t get to hear his raspy laugh, or hold his hand when his upset but won’t admit it, or set another ball to him so he can spike it. I won’t ever have the chance to tell him that I love him.

“All that’s left now are memories.” he flops back down onto the spot beside him, defeated.

There’s a pregnant pause. Hanamaki can hear a car pull into a gravel driveway and someone shout something further down the street outside. He can also hear a clock ticking nearby, the _tick ticks_ deafening in the silence.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Oikawa chokes out.

Hanamaki shuffles down to wrap an arm around Oikawa who is now hunched over with his head in his hands, sobbing violently. He feels his own eyes water, even as he tries his hardest to keep a straight face as he comforts his friend.  

He’s right, Hanamaki thinks biting down as hard as he can on his lip to stop it from trembling, that’s all that’s left now: memories.

“What if,” Matsukawa says quietly, staring at his hands interlocked in front of him, “there was a way to bring Iwaizumi back?”

Hanamaki can feel Oikawa still beneath him. His own heart skips a beat at Matsukawa’s words.  

_What the fuck did he just say?_

Hanamaki slowly looks over to Matsukawa who’s piercing dark eyes are staring right back at him. ‘ _You heard what I said’_ his stare seems to say.  

“What?” is Oikawa’s pitifully sad reply; his head slipping up and out of his hands.

Matsukawa jumps out of his chair and rushes down the corridor to his bedroom. Hanamaki hears something clank, kind of like the noise a coin makes when it drops into an empty piggybank, but _duller_? Not a second later he’s back before them – a box-like object cradled in his hands, which he gently sets onto the coffee table.

Matsukawa stands before the coffee table – before them, like he’s about to give a presentation, “This – well I don’t know the technical name for it, is a time box. It allows who ever uses it to go back or forward in time.

“I know it sounds crazy but it works – it _really_ does work. I acquired it from an old lady who passed away a few months ago. Her family just wanted to clear out her property, and along with a pendulum clock and a sun dial, I got this.”

Hanamaki glances at this so-called ‘time box’. It’s an ornate-looking, brass box, with intricate patterns carved into its outer surface. It’s no bigger than a volley ball but it is large enough to accommodate two analog clock faces on one of its sides. They both read 11:05pm, and he can also see that there are several other smaller clock faces drawn within both of the larger clock faces. Below both of the two clock faces are two long rectangle counters and cylindrical winder, which both display the number 2026. There’s a circular button on top of the box too, but otherwise, besides those two surfaces, the box is blank except for the designs.

“At first I thought it was a decorative piece. No one in the old lady’s family could tell me what is was, plus it seemed to have stopped working, so I decided to take it as well and see if I could find out what the thing was. I tinkered with it for a while, and well, I discovered pretty quickly what it could do. Aren’t you guys going to say anything?”

“You’ve gone mad,” Hanamaki says, pulling Oikawa up to a stand, “let’s go Oikawa.”

“No, wait!”

“I can’t believe I thought things between us could go back to normal.” he scoffs.

“Why would I lie about this? And before you ask, _no_ I’m not drunk. Don’t you understand what this means? What we can do?” Matsukawa says. It’s the loudest Hanamaki has ever heard him speak.

“I’m leaving. Goodbye, Issei, maybe tell the local television station about your _time box,_ they’ll get a kick out of it.”

He stomps towards the door, Oikawa’s forearm in his grip. He’s about a metre away from the doorknob when he’s jolted backwards by Oikawa planting his weight in the opposite direction.

“Prove it.”

“Huh.” Hanamaki puffs.

“ _Prove it_ ,” Oikawa repeats, no traces of sadness left in his voice. He’s got the same look in his eyes he used to have during matches against Shiratorizawa and Kageyama, “let’s go back in time.”

“Alright.” Matsukawa concedes. He picks up the box carefully and looks back to Oikawa, “When?”

“January 5th, 2021.”

“This is madness! Do you really think we can just go back to the day Iwaizumi died and prevent it all from happening?” Hanamaki sneers as he steps towards them. Matsukawa is fiddling around with the time box and Oikawa’s watching intently. They’re both ignoring him.

“There,” Matsukawa shifts the device onto the palm of his right hand, and stretches his right arm out so it’s hanging in mid air, “all set. All I have to do is press this button and we’ll be off to 2021.”

“What do I do?” Oikawa questions.

“Place your hand on the box; just don’t touch the clock faces or the button.” Hanamaki can only watch on as Oikawa does so, his hand coming to rest on one of the blank sides of the box.

“Aren’t you going to come, Makki?”

“You’ve got to be joking. If you think I’m going to fall for this—”

“Don’t you want to prove me wrong?” Matsukawa challenges.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring at his stupid friend, his stupid _something_ and the stupid box. It was supposed to be a drama-free night, no hassles no worries and no fighting. But here the three of them are: post-Oikawa meltdown and Matsukawa-Hanamaki argument about to be the world’s first time travellers.

“Tsk,” he reaches out and slaps his hand on another blank space on the box, “prove me right, if you can.” he challenges right back.

Matsukawa lets out a deep chuckle and smiles, “Yeah, okay.” and pushes the button.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the three musketeers go back to 2021 (sorry, that's all I can say) 
> 
> P.S. I'm still crying over the Seijoh OVA


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess who went ahead and smashed out the next chapter >_>
> 
> This chapter contains some of the first scene/s I came up with when I first thought of the story, so I was really excited to pump it out. 
> 
> Just out of interest: who thinks Iwaizumi will be saved in time? Let me know in the comments if your hypothesis was right (or wrong) 
> 
> Enjoy guys ^_^  
> Please smash the comment, kudos, subscription and bookmark button.

** CHAPTER FOUR **

 

(January 2021)

 

“Oikawa-sensei?” someone squeaks.

“Is he dead?”

“Of course not, you idiot!” a girl’s voice hisses. 

Oikawa groans in response.

His eyes flutter open – and for some reason, he’s lying on his back on the hard floor, staring up at the incredibly bright LED lights in the ceiling. His mind feels fuzzy – almost like he’s having a brain freeze.

_Am I drunk?_

He did have a lot to drink at the izakaya and then went on to beers at Mattsun’s place. He really should have accepted a juice or tea instead of insisting on the beer; way to make a fool out of himself in front of his friends. Speaking of which – _Where were Mattsun and Makki?_

“Oikawa-sensei?” the voice repeats again, and Oikawa jolts out of his thoughts when he notices where exactly he is. He’s lying on the ground – yes, but naturally he had assumed it was Mattsun’s floor, but from what he can see the floor is hardwood; the flooring in Mattsun’s townhouse had been carpeted. What’s even more startling is the sea of faces – all teenagers decked out in school uniform, staring down at him with worry, shock and even some amusement written on their faces.

Shit, had he turned up to work hung-over?

 _No, that doesn’t sound right,_ he thinks, _I should still be back in Sendai not Chiba._

“Oikawa-sensei, are you okay? Are you hurt?” one the students near his head asks.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists sitting up off his back. His backside and his back ache something fierce though, almost like he had fallen from midair onto the ground, “thank you—”

As he turns to face the student he is struck with confusion – he can’t seem to recall her name. This irks him, as he has always prided himself on his attention to detail and memorisation, even if it was just someone’s name.

“Do you want us to get the nurse, sensei?” another student calls from his other side.

As he turns to address them, he once again finds himself at a loss as to what the student’s name is. Concerned now, his eyes flicker through the crowd of students – hoping that he had only misplaced the names of the previous two students, and is taken aback by the realisation that he has no idea who any of them are.

_Perhaps, I’ve taken on a class for another teacher?_

“Uh,” he starts, standing shakily. One of the nameless students lends him a hand, “I apologise for the disruption I truly am fine, I think my knee just gave out is all. Please return to your seats so we can resume the lesson.”

He turns around to head back to the front of the classroom toward his desk where he knows the class role is kept as the noises of murmuring, feet shuffling and chairs scraping into place sound out behind him. As he makes his way around the desk, his head still spinning, his eyes catch onto an A4 piece of paper with the class role on it and it’s as his eyes scan through the list of names does it catch on something even more puzzling:

_History Class 3-1, Period 5_

_Teacher: Oikawa Tooru_

_Tuesday 5 th January, 2021_

_Tuesday the 5 th of January, _Oikawa’s mind screams, _2021?!_

He glances up to the room again, confused more than ever when he notices that the students before him don’t belong to some other teacher’s class at all. Although he can’t remember their names all that well, their faces are vaguely familiar now – they’re his senior history class from 2021.

And that’s when it hits him in full force: what had happened. Mattsun had said something about travelling back in time with some ‘time box-thing’ he had fixed up. Makki had been his usual cynical self about the whole thing, but Oikawa – in the midst of his drunken despair, had demanded that Mattsun prove it.

And he did.

After Mattsun had pushed the button, all he can remember is that his mind had been swimming in a sea of white. There was no sound or discernable temperature or taste in the air – just a whole lot of nothing, and the next thing he knew he was here.

_It worked?!_

He stares out into the classroom and it is blaring obvious now that he is definitely back in 2021. Besides the students he had taught five years ago now sitting in front of him, there’s the peeling white paint on the walls – which had been repainted to a lighter yellow in 2023, and the hardwood floors that he had been lying on moments ago are now shiny and new, where they had been scuffed and dull from wear and tear back in 2026. The calendar on the wall to his left even confirms it, the large writing confirming it is January 2021.

An even greater feeling overwhelms him - much like a surprise punch to the gut. He can feel his heart flutter like wings of a hummingbird as he grips at the desk, scrunching up papers under his hand as realisation washes over him:

_Hajime is still alive!_

Desperately, he peers up to the clock on the wall and his heart drops: the clock reads 2:43pm. From what he knows Iwaizumi’s accident had taken place before 5pm all the way in Yokohama.

And he’s in Chiba.

_I can’t stay here, not when Iwaizumi’s death is only hours away! Not when I can save him!_

“On second thought, I’m not feeling so well,” he informs the class hurriedly. He notices his bag under the desk and yanks it over his shoulder, already turning towards the door, “please quietly study for the rest of the period. I’m sorry!”

He’s already out the door before his class can make any real protest, his long legs propelling him down the corridor, past the staffroom and other classrooms. For a moment he thinks he should probably tell Fujiakawa that he’s leaving early for the day because he’s ‘unwell’, but the drive to Yokohama is an approximately hour – maybe less if he gets all the green lights, so he doesn’t exactly have the time to waste faking sick in front of the department head.

_I guess I’ll deal with the repercussions for skipping class later._

If feels like an eternity before he reaches the car park where his car is, already starting to dig around in his bag for his keys as he enters the lot. He pulls them out and unlocks his car, practically jumping into the driver’s seat. As he reefs his bag over his shoulder to toss it somewhere out of the way, does his phone start ringing. Clawing through his bag while swearing at the lost time, his annoyance is replaced with urgency when he sees who’s calling him.

“Mattsun!” Oikawa yells as he accepts the call.

“Oikawa! Where the hell are you? Are you okay?” Hanamaki’s voice rings out instead.

“I’m fine. Uh – I’m at work, Oikawa answers, running his hand up his face and into his hair, “back in Chiba, but it’s 2021. _It’s 2021!_ I can’t believe it! It worked, it actually worked, Makki! Unless I’m drunk, or this is some elaborate dream that’s—” 

“Oikawa,” Matsukawa’s voice interrupts, “it’s not a dream, we’ve done it; we’ve gone back to 2021.” There’s a quiet moment where he can just hear the three of them breathing. It’s astounding really; they’re the world’s first time travellers. “But we can marvel over this later, there are more pressing matters at the moment. We need to save Iwaizumi.”

“I know. I’m on my way to Yokohama now. Hopefully I can make it within the hour.” As he says this Oikawa places his phone – which he belatedly realises is his older model iPhone that he had gotten rid of way before 2026, on loudspeaker and sets it onto the console. He then starts up the car, pulling out from the parking space with more finesse than he thought he’d have considering his borderline frantic state. “Wait, where are you two? And why are you two together and I’m by myself?”

“It seems we’ve gone back to the exact location we were on the 5th of January 2021.” Mattsun starts to explain as Oikawa’s pulls out onto the road, “Hanamaki and I are in Kyoto it seems.”

“Kyoto?! What are both doing in Kyoto?” Oikawa exclaims. Kyoto is even further than Chiba; more than three hours away to be exact.

“Back in 2021 we were still dating remember?” Hanamaki chastises Oikawa, “We’re in Kyoto for our post-Christmas vacation.”  

 _Ah that’s right, shit,_ Oikawa berates himself.

“I still can’t believe it fucking worked.” Hanamaki utters, in an attempt to dispel the awkward topic.

“Anyways,” Matsukawa coughs awkwardly, “Hanamaki and I won’t be able to do anything where we are now. We’re going to try and catch a train to Yokohama, but it won’t arrive there till after 6pm."

“Can’t we just go back using the time box so that we can have more time?” Hanamaki asks. Over the phone, he can hear the honking of cars and people talking in the background.

 _They must be on their way to the train station,_ Oikawa speculates.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea at this stage – since Oikawa isn’t with us and we all came here as a group of three.  I’m still not 100% sure how this all works, but I think it would be safer if we’re altogether before we do any more time jumps.”

“Okay then, why don’t we just call Iwaizumi and tell him to stay put?” Hanamaki reasons, “That way we don’t have to worry as much if we don’t make it in time?”

“No,” Matsukawa flatly answers, “we have no way of knowing if it’ll work or not. Let’s not forget we don’t know the circumstances that lead to the events of Iwaizumi’s accident.”

“Mattsun’s right, and knowing Iwa-chan he probably won’t listen and will badger me until I gave him the reason why,” Oikawa agrees, swallowing thickly, “I’d rather physically jump in front of his car then risk him being stubborn and going off to his death again.”  

There’s also a very large part of him that wants to see Iwaizumi again.

Oikawa hands tighten around the steering wheel, _Looks like it’s all riding on me then._

Hanamaki huffs through the speaker, sounding irritated, “Well I’m sorry I’m not an expert in time travel - still getting my head around it here! I’m still in shock that I’m my 2021-self for crying out loud! I have abs again!”

“Huh.” Oikawa squawks. His eyes dart up to the rear view mirror, this time actually looking at his reflection and not the cars and the road behind him. Sure enough, a younger version of himself is staring right back: there’s the absence of dark circles and crow’s feet around his eyes and no grey hairs in sight, and instead of his glasses he’s actually wearing his contacts. Even as he sits there, legs stretched out but slightly bent in front of him, he notices that his knee isn’t twinging like it normally does after sitting for prolonged periods of time.

“Fuck.” is all Oikawa can manage.

“Yeah I know!” Hanamaki cries incredulously, “This time travelling stuff is whack. Oi, Matsukawa, did you have any idea this was going to happen?”

“Er well, I hadn’t gone this far back before now,” is Matsukawa’s meek reply, “plus it was hard to gauge if I had gotten younger or not, considering I only trailed going back for a week or month in time. My appearance didn’t change all that much really.”

“You mean this is the first time that you’ve properly used it?! That’s a pretty big fucking gamble! Who knows what could’ve happened!” Hanamaki’s voice screeches through the phone. Oikawa winces

“It all worked out for the best, didn’t it? And I don’t think Mattsun would’ve purposely put us in danger, Makki.” Oikawa reasons, turning onto the motorway. Hanamaki only mutters something incoherent in response.

“Well I still think we need to be careful and keep our leaps into time to a minimum,” Matsukawa notes, “I worry that we could get stuck in a certain time if we overuse it – I’m not exactly sure how the time box is powered.”  

“We could get stuck?” Oikawa gasps.

“Yes, no – I’m not sure. I think we should just focus on what we have to do, make little to no errors, then head back to the year we’re originally from – aka 2026.”  

“Ok then, so what’s our game plan?” Hanamaki pipes in.

“Right, so Oikawa is currently heading to Chiba to hopefully intercept Iwaizumi before his accident.” Matsukawa starts, sounding unperturbed despite the situation, “Hanamaki and I are going to try and get a train so the three of us can convene in Yokohama. Hopefully by that time Iwaizumi’s accident has been prevented.”

“Where should we convene?” Oikawa asks, “My phone battery was on 43% when I last checked, and I might need to use it for directions when I get closer or if there’s an emergency, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get in contact with you both like this again. I don’t think Iwaizumi’s place is plausible either, what with Midori-chan being there and all that.”

“Hmmm, perhaps somewhere close to Iwaizumi’s house?” Matsukawa suggests.

“There’s a park close by, where Iwaizumi used to take Kin-chan.” He’d only been there a handful of times with Iwaizumi and his daughter when Midori had been at work. “It’s only a seven minute walk from their house.”

“Sounds good. We need to hurry up to the train station and get our tickets.” Hanamaki responds, “You better have Iwaizumi with you when we meet you there!”

“I will.” Oikawa declares.

_There’s no stopping me now._

“Be careful, Oikawa,” Matsukawa cautions, “And good luck.”

 

_(March, 2013)_

The New Year comes around as swiftly as a well-aimed serve to the back of the head, and before Matsukawa knows it exams have come and gone spelling the end of their third year of high school, with the graduation party all that’s left to go.   

Matsukawa is not really a party person – he prefers peace and quiet over loud noises and crowds – but Hanamaki had been excited about it, and there was little resistance on his part when an opportunity arose to appease Hanamaki, so he acquiesced. Plus, he’s getting out the house and away from his overbearing father so it can’t be all that bad.

The theme that had been decided for the party was ‘traditional’, which meant furisode for the girls and montsuki hakama for the boys – much to the male majority’s dismay.

 _At least it isn’t summer,_ had been Matsukawa’s thought, watching his mother dig out all the fabrics and pieces from the back of a wardrobe as he protested weakly from the sidelines that it didn’t have to be the full ensemble.

The evening of the party is a frantic mess. Not only was getting dressed a time-consuming and tiring task, but Oikawa’s mother had insisted that the four boys come to their house for photos before it started, which meant each pair of parents were going too, along with their siblings and Oikawa’s nephew. It was too chaotic for Matsukawa’s liking, and by the looks on his friend’s faces the sentiment was shared, but it was nice; the four of them together like this.

Things had been changing over the course of the last few months – what with the end of their high school volleyball chapter, final exams, budding relationships and university entrance exams, and it seemed life was getting too far ahead of them all. _It sucks getting old_ , he thinks wistfully.

So, it only seemed natural to take advantage of the night with his three best friends.

He eyes shift between Iwaizumi and Nakahara sitting together at a nearby table talking among themselves, and Oikawa sending them dirty looks between sips of his soft drink at their separate table.

Or so he had thought.

It had been strained between Oikawa and Iwaizumi for a while now, and it’s not hard for Matsukawa to warrant a guess as to why. Nakahara Midori had come through Aoba Johsai like a tornado, destructing everything in her way; Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s relationship being unlucky enough to be caught in the eye of it. Hanamaki and he had thought they would eventually hash it out like the two idiots had always done, but ever since Nakahara had asked Iwaizumi to the graduation party, things had only managed to snowball; the both of them frolicking around the issue like they were the main characters in a shōjo manga.

Beside him, Hanamaki tries to engage Oikawa in a conversation, no doubt trying to cheer his friend up. Oikawa has been pouting ever since Iwaizumi and his parents left his house prematurely to go over to Nakahara’s place for photos.

“—scholarship to play volleyball at Tokyo University, eh?”

“It’s not official yet, but I think so, yes.” Oikawa replies.

“Congratulations,” Hanamaki beams putting Oikawa into headlock, disregarding his styled hair, “I knew you would get it, Hanger-san!”

“Watch my hair, Makki. Do you know how long it took me to get it like this?!” Oikawa squawks, trying to escape.

“Please, it looks the same as it always does.” Hanamaki quips, letting Oikawa go.

“It does not, Makki. It’s shinier and—” something catches Oikawa’s attention behind them.

“And?” Hanamaki prompts not noticing Oikawa’s change in demeanour.

“Where’s Iwa-chan and Nakahara?” Oikawa asks trying to peer over Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s tall frames.

They turn around and sure enough the table where the two of them had been sitting is now completely empty.

“Beats me.” Hanamaki drawls, reaching for his drink.

Matsukawa is about to give up playing ‘Where’s Hajime’ too, when he notices Nakahara’s red kimono followed by Iwaizumi’s stark black montsuki disappear behind the exit door, which leads outside and away from the party.

The harsh intake of breath to his right diverts his attention back to their table, and it’s no real surprise that it had been Oikawa. _He looks heartbroken,_ Matsukawa considers sadly as he observes his friend, who’s now desperately trying to distract himself by taking another sip of his drink.

He or Hanamaki should say something, words of comfort, some stupid joke that would get Oikawa all flustered or even a well-aimed wise crack at Iwaizumi or Nakahara’s expense, but he hesitates.

 _Honestly, is there anything I can I say or do to make him feel better?_ No, there isn’t. And judging from the look on Hanamaki’s face he feels no differently.

So, they both remain quiet.

 

(January 2021)

 

Hanamaki can’t stop bouncing his knee.

The patrons on the train are staring at him strangely, he knows, but it’s the only thing stopping him from leaping up and pacing from the one end of the train to the other.

Beside him Matsukawa is sitting quietly, staring out the window. In his lap rests a duffle bag, which they had hastily stuffed their vacation belongings into before hightailing it to the train station.

_How is Issei unaffected by all of this?!_

When he had come to in 2021, he’d been lying on a bed in his boxers next to an equally naked Matsukawa, the TV blaring in the background. He thought for a crazy moment that they had drunken-ex-sex after their catch up in Sendai, but as it turned out they had just rocked up in the past where they were about to have couples-in-love-sex. The realisation of what was going on hit him like a train and he ended up falling off the bed.

Matsukawa had calmly helped to his feet, told him he would explain everything later as he pulled a shirt on, started packing their stuff, got them out the hotel quickly and efficiently, and then handed him his phone so he could call Oikawa. Even during their phone call with Oikawa, he’d been clear and concise with his instructions, and although Hanamaki had been almost hysterical with some of his outbursts – who could blame him really – Matsukawa had pressed on with the task at hand, steadfast and reliable as he’d always been.

To those who didn’t know him, Issei seemed like an aloof guy – he always seemed borderline disinterested most of the time and was a man of few words – but Hanamaki knew better. He was inherently observant – those tired eyes never missing a thing – considerate and more sensitive than anyone else he had ever known. And now he had gone and done something incredible; crazy, but incredible. He had always been tenacious and dexterous – his dedication to his work has attested to that; so why was he so shocked?   

“Are you okay, Takahiro?” Matsukawa’s hand comes to tentatively rest on Hanamaki’s bouncing knee.

Hanamaki startles, and almost falls off another piece of furniture for the second time today. “Define okay.” he wheezes out. He can feel his cheeks heating up in embarrassment at Matsukawa’s comforting touch.

“You’re not hurt anywhere, are you? Your head feels fine? You don’t feel too dizzy or lightheaded?”

“Aside from my bruised ego, I’m fine.” Hanamaki jokes although it’s true.

“Heh. Well it looks like I proved you right after all.” Matsukawa says quietly, moving his hand away from Hanamaki’s knee and for some reason Hanamaki’s doesn’t want him to.

“Look, Matsukawa—”

“It’s fine. If you said to me you figured out a way to travel through time, I probably would’ve said you were crazy as well.”

“No you wouldn’t.” Hanamaki says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You would have given me the benefit of the doubt. You’re not the type of person to condemn someone so callously.” 

“I suppose, but in the end you gave me the benefit of the doubt, didn’t you?” Matsukawa points out, shifting around in the seat, “I mean, you came back in time with Oikawa and I. You must have believed me, even if it was just a little bit.”

 _He’s right,_ Hanamaki thinks grudgingly.

“I must have had too much to drink.” Hanamaki retaliates glibly.

Matsukawa chuckles low and deep in response, “Since when were you a lightweight?”

“Pfft, I’m no Oikawa,” he jests back nudging him with his elbow. As he says Oikawa’s name though, he sits up in his seat and turns to face Matsukawa fully, “Do you think Oikawa will be alright?”

“I think so. Granted it must have been all sorts of confusing when he came to all by himself, plus it may be a little difficult for him being alone in this _situation,_ but Oikawa is tough guy; he can handle himself.”

“Do you think he’ll do it? Save Iwaizumi I mean?”

Matsukawa sighs, “I really can’t say. I hope so, but there’s no telling what could happen. Like I said before, we don’t know the circumstances that led to Iwaizumi’s accident.”

Hanamaki hums in assent, but then asks, “What happens if he fails?”

It’s something he doesn’t want to think about to be honest; Iwaizumi’s death had been gruelling enough the first time.

Matsukawa meets his gaze resolutely, “Then we’ll find some other way to save Iwaizumi. You have my word, Takahiro.”

And with those words, Hanamaki can’t help but believe in him.

 

(January 2021)

 

When he’s ten minutes from Yokohama, Oikawa pulls over to type in Iwaizumi’s address into the map app on his phone; it also serves as a quick breather for Oikawa, who had started to feel more and more anxious as he got closer and closer to Yokohama. After he sets his phone up with the directions on display – grimacing at the 27% battery life he has left, he wipes the palms of his sweaty hands on his pants and heaves out a long sigh.

The gravity of the situation had hit him full force on his drive to Yokohama. Not only had he and his friends successfully travelled back in time, but he is also about to see Iwaizumi alive again – for the first time in five years, and attempt to prevent the accident that had claimed his life. Intrusive thoughts seep their way into his head - of whether he can pull this off; whether he can save Iwaizumi. Another scary notion that pops up is even if he does manage to prevent the accident, will Iwaizumi die some other way? Maybe he was supposed to die in this time?

Oikawa had fiddled with the radio station to distract himself.

_Perhaps if Makki and Mattsun were here I wouldn’t be so nervous?_

He pulls out onto the road again, joining the queue into Yokohama. The drive is slower than it was on the motorways from Chiba; it’s almost if time is trying to physically slow him down now that he’s so close to his destination. It also doesn’t help that it has also started to rain, but soon enough he reaches Iwaizumi’s neighbourhood; parking his car around the block from Iwaizumi’s place.

Back in 2021, Iwaizumi and his family had lived just off the main city and closer to the suburbs in an apartment block. Oikawa had been there a few times over the years, but mostly caught up with Iwaizumi somewhere in the city, or in Sendai or Chiba; it had been easier that way rather than deal with Midori.

It’s as he vaguely remembers it to be as he rounds the corner and sees the apartment building. Iwaizumi’s apartment is the one on the ground floor, on the corner section of the ten storey building complete with its own tiny backyard. Oikawa briefly remembers how insistent Iwaizumi had been on getting a place with a backyard, since he had every intention of eventually getting a dog. He also remembers how Iwaizumi had gruffly explained that despite having enough room and that the building was pet friendly; Midori had refused the idea of getting a dog and wouldn’t budge when Iwaizumi had argued it.

Gritting his teeth, he quickens his pace towards Iwaizumi’s apartment; it’s just before 4pm, and Oikawa desperately hopes that he’s made it in time. As he leaps up the steps almost slipping in the wet – his hand flying out to buzz the intercom to Iwaizumi’s apartment, does the sound of two _very familiar_ voices reach his ears.

“We’re having this discussion inside. I don’t want the neighbours to hear this.” Iwaizumi growls.

Oikawa whips his head over to the left, where he just catches the sight of Iwaizumi and Midori marching out of their backyard back toward the back door. The thrill of seeing Iwaizumi alive wears off quickly as he observes the dark expression on Iwaizumi’s face before he slams the door shut behind him and Midori. Worried now, Oikawa backtracks down the stairs around the fence surrounding Iwaizumi’s apartment. He can still hear muffled arguing as he follows the fence for a better vantage point, but he still can’t hear them clearly.

 _Damn it,_ he curses to himself, _if only I could hear what’s going on!_

It’s as he looks up at the fence contemplatively for some sort of answer does he realise that fence itself probably isn’t all that high for someone as tall as himself to climb over. _Why not? I’ve already broken the rules of time, what’s a little breaking and entering?_

Oikawa reaches up to hoist himself up and over the fence, quickly scanning the area for anyone who might catch him in this precarious position. Confirming that he’s being unwatched, he then slides down the other side of the fence into the backyard. He creeps along the fence to the side of the apartment, where he observes a small window that has been left open, the conversation between Hajime and Midori becoming exponentially clearer as he approaches it.

“— think you could keep this from me?” Iwaizumi explodes from inside the house, causing Oikawa to almost jump away from the window in surprise. Never had he heard Iwaizumi so angry before in all his life.

“Can you please stop yelling? Kin is trying to sleep in the other—”

"—I’ll yell all I want. Can you really blame me?”

There’s a lull in the conservation inside the apartment, and Oikawa doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, but he reaches into his pocket for his phone and swipes through his apps until him comes across the voice recording app, starts a new recording and sets the phone onto the window sill.

 _Makki and Mattsun need to hear this too,_ his mind justifies, but deep down he knows his desperately wants to know and have the truth.

“Hajime, please, just allow me to explain.” Midori pleads in a quiet voice.    

“Explain what? That Kin – my sweet, little girl, isn’t actually my daughter? Oh yes, please explain the minute details of how that came to be!”

The revelation washes over Oikawa like a cold, tumbling wave. He gasps, his hand flying out to cover his mouth, _Iwaizumi isn’t Kin’s biological father?!_

“I don’t know what to say, Hajime, I’m so sorry. I just—”

“After all the shit you put me through.” Hajime hisses. Oikawa hears something slam against a hard surface.

“She’s still your daughter! And she loves you so much.” Midori counters.

“Yes, I fucking know that.”

“There’s no need for the language!”

Hajime huffs, “I don’t care what you think. We’re done; I’m filing for a divorce.”

“Wha— no, no, Hajime, please we can work this out.” Midori wails.

“Work what out? That you’re a manipulative liar who gave birth to a child that doesn’t even belong to the man she married. Pfft please.” Oikawa hears keys jingling and braces himself.

_This is it. Hajime is about to drive off to his death._

Before Oikawa can grab his phone and climb back over the fence, Midori’s voice cuts in again “Where are you going? We’re talking.”

“I’m going for a drive.” is Hajime’s terse reply.

“Running off to _him_ again?” Midori sneers.

“Don’t. Oikawa has nothing to do with this.”

“Oikawa has _everything_ to do with this.”

Oikawa eyes widen. M _e?_

Hajime scoffs, “What?”

“All you do is talk about him! Not to mention, the both of you are always meeting up and chatting away on the phone. Your family is more important than some high school friend, Hajime.”

“I’ve barely seen Oikawa since we moved to Yokohama,” Hajime protests, “talking to him on the phone is the only way I get to catch up with him. And he’s not just _some high school friend_ , I’ve known him since we were babies, you know that.”

“I certainly don’t look at my friends the way you look at Oikawa.” Midori snaps, “It’s no wonder I’ve done what I’ve have, my husband is in love with another man!”

“But you—”

“We’re married!” Midori roars. Something crashes onto the ground and a moment later Kin’s cries echo throughout the apartment.

“Now look at what you’ve done.”

But Hajime doesn’t respond. The keys jingle once again and the sound of footsteps retreating intermingles with Kin’s cries. A door slams somewhere, which prompts Oikawa to get his phone, turn off the recording and pocket it quickly.

What on Earth had just happened? Midori cheated on Hajime then had her lover’s child, but pretended it was Hajime’s? And it was his fault, what—

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ He had been so absorbed in their argument that he hadn’t registered that Iwaizumi had left the apartment.

_I can dissect their conversation later; I need to get out of here._

Before he can turn around and start up the fence, the back door opens to reveal Midori and a crying Kin in her arms.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. There, there.” Midori’s voice soothes.

Oikawa snaps up against the apartment wall and ducks out of view behind a bush and watches as Midori makes her way deeper into the yard, rocking Kin gently side to side. There’s no way she won’t notice him if he tries to climb the fence and out of their yard now.

_Fuck, I need to get out of here. Think Oikawa, think!_

Oikawa goes to run his hand through his hair, but then he realises he is still holding his phone. There’s only a measly 2% left now – his call with Makki and Mattsun as well as leaving the map and recording app open had taken its toll on the battery, but perhaps it’s enough to give him some last minute leverage. He opens his contacts up and finds Iwaizumi’s home number, calls it then waits. Moments later, a phone ringing from within Iwaizumi’s apartment breaks the silence and Oikawa peeks through the bushes at Midori and Kin.

 _Go answer it, go answer it please,_ Oikawa begs.

Midori doesn’t move, and Oikawa can feel ice-cold dread start to settle in his chest.

_Answer it!_

But then Midori starts to turn around with Kin on her hip, back towards the house.

Oikawa waits with bated breath until he hears the door open and close, then hangs up on the call and leaps at the fence. He lands heavily on the other side, and slips a little a bit on the wet pavement – feeling his knee protest at the sensation. He starts running back the way he came in the direction of the underground car park where Iwaizumi’s car is no doubt parked.

“Oi, what where you doing in there?” a voice calls out.

Oikawa turns around and sees a middle-aged man with an umbrella walking his dog behind him. He looks at Oikawa sternly, looking between him and the fence he’d just climbed over.

“Emergency!” he cries out, continuing to run. He hears tyres squealing on cement around the corner and picks up his pace.

“Wait a second—” the man demands. 

Oikawa turns around the corner and catches sight of Iwaizumi in his car turning out of the driveway out onto the road.

In the opposite direction.

_No._

“Shit. Hajime! Wait—”

He feels something grab his forearm and yank him back, “I don’t think so,” it’s the man with the dog, “I’m calling the police. You can explain to them what you were doing on someone else’s property.”

Oikawa snarls, “I don’t have time for this.” and snatches his arm back, running off in the direction of Iwaizumi’s car.

“Hey, you! Stop!” the man’s voice yells, but Oikawa pays him no mind.

The situation has gone from bad to worse. Not only has he missed Iwaizumi and now has get in his car to try and track him down, but now there had been a witness who had seen him.

 _The rain has gotten heavier too,_ Oikawa can’t help but notice grimly.

He makes it back to his car a block away and starts it up; turning onto a side road so the man with the dog can’t get his car details and starts to drive; checking his rear view mirror, and sighs in relief when there’s no sight of the guy.

There’s traffic again, which has appeared to have gotten worse in the last hour or so, and Oikawa feels the pressure mounting when he realises that he can’t see Iwaizumi’s car at all. The traffic light is red and there’s no way his going to make the next change of lights either.

_Damn it!_

Oikawa gets his phone out and his flings it away angrily when his phone doesn’t respond when he presses the home button; the battery well and truly depleted.

_Damn it!_

In one last ditch effort, Oikawa swerves carefully around the car in front of him and merges into the left lane, just making the left green arrow. He finds a spot to park his car, taking only his keys with him as he starts to run in earnest; the corner where Iwaizumi had his accident is a ten minute drive away but is even longer on foot.

 _Please let me make it time. Please,_ Oikawa begs.

There are rivulets of water dripping from his hair down his face and his clothes are saturated; sticking uncomfortably to his body. His feet are sliding inside his loafers, his toes banging into the front of his shoe hard enough that he knows the tips will blister. His knee is aching too now, which was probably exacerbated by his odd landing from his climb before.   

But none of it matters.

Oikawa doesn’t know how long he’s been running for – probably close to fifteen minutes by now if the stitch in his side is anything to go off, but he’s gotta be close. He’s gotta be!

It’s when he is a block away from the accursed corner when he hears the eerie screech of car tyres followed by a resonating, loud _bangggg_ does he realise that he’s too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the three musketeers meet up (again), flashbacks ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and suffering.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter, guys! 
> 
> I think this is my biggest one yet (word and 'moments' wise), so buckle in and hold on. 
> 
> Enjoy ^_^ 
> 
> (and don't hate me)

** CHAPTER FIVE**

 

(January 2021)

 

They are less than an half an hour away from Yokohama when Matsukawa’s phone starts to ringing.

Wishful thinking has him hoping it is Oikawa calling to report his success in saving Iwaizumi, but when the caller ID instead indicates that it is Oikawa’s sister a horrible sense of déjà vu washes over him. Before he gets the chance to answer it and confirm his suspicions, Hanamaki whips his hand out and declines the call.

“She’s probably just calling to say hello. We’ll call her later.”

Matsukawa shoulders sag, “No. That was _the_ call, the same one we got from her five years ago. The only difference now is that we’re on a train and not in our hotel room.”

Hanamaki bites his lip, “No. Oikawa saved him, he had to.”

“Something must of have happened.” Matsukawa unlocks his phone and finds Oikawa in his contacts. When he clicks the phone icon to start calling him though, he gets nothing. “Shit, he must be out of battery” 

“Fuck,” Hanamaki hisses, slamming his fist down onto the seat, “What on Earth happened?! Did he not make it in time?”

“There’s no way of knowing until we meet up with him.” Matsukawa reasons, feeling a headache come on; he wishes this goddamn train would go faster.

They don’t speak much after that, except for when they arrive, where they briefly discuss what directions to take to meet with Oikawa at the park near Iwaizumi’s place. The walk to the park is a sombre one, but luckily the rain had stopped; the only sign it been raining is the wet asphalt beneath their shoes and the occasional puddle.

When they reach the park they see a silhouette of a person hunched over on a single swing. As they hurry over – Hanamaki hoisting the duffle bag higher up onto his shoulder, it becomes abundantly clear that the person is Oikawa. He’s sopping wet; his hair plastered to his face and his clothes are drenched all the way through.

“Oikawa.” Hanamaki reaches the swing set first, setting the duffle bag carefully down onto a dry patch of ground, “Oikawa, are you alright?”

Matsukawa comes up to a stop beside Hanamaki who has squatted down to Oikawa’s level. Oikawa hasn’t looked up and is still staring down blankly at his phone in his hands. In addition to the goosebumps littering the areas of skin not covered in clothing, he’s also shivering.

“Oikawa.” Matsukawa prompts.

Oikawa looks up in a daze, “Do...do either of you happen to have a charger? My phone’s battery died.”

Hanamaki edges closer, waddling over in his squat position, “Oikawa, what happened?”

Oikawa blinks slowly then says “Oh, well, I failed. Iwaizumi’s dead, again.”

Hanamaki cuts his gaze to Matsukawa. “Oikawa,” Matsukawa begins tentatively, “I think we should get you out of those wet clothes; we have plenty of clothes in our bag. I think we have a powerbank somewhere in there as well so you can charge your phone.”

Oikawa doesn’t respond.

“Is your car around here somewhere, Oikawa?” Hanamaki tries.

Oikawa nods and slowly stands then points over to the car park, “Yeah, it’s over there.”

The three walk over to Oikawa’s car; Hanamaki and Matsukawa flanking Oikawa’s sides. When they get to Oikawa’s car, Hanamaki takes the keys off Oikawa and unlocks the back door and ushers Oikawa into the back seat with the duffle bag. “Get changed now before you catch a cold. Take anything from the bag to put on. We’ll wait outside.”

“Be careful – the time box is tucked in there.” Matsukawa adds.

Hanamaki closes the door as Oikawa shuffles in then turns to Matsukawa who’s staring pensively out into the distance, “What should we do now?”  

“Get something warm to eat and hash out what we should do next.”

“Do we have time for a meal? We might not have many time jumps left. So shouldn’t we try another jump ASAP? This could be our last chance to save Iwaizumi.”

“True, but I think for now we need to take a moment to catch our breaths. This was the first time you and Oikawa ‘time jumped’. The first time I went back I felt exhausted – and I only went back a few months, so I can only imagine how the both of you would be feeling after going back five years. I’m also worried about Oikawa. I don’t know what happened, but I’m hoping we can get him to talk it out before we make anymore decisions.”

“Iwaizumi’s just died – not for the first time may I add, and here we are talking about having a bite to eat.”

“It’s...a little bizarre. But once we find out what happened from Oikawa, we can formulate a better approach to save him.”

The car door opens and Oikawa’s wet brunet hair pops out from behind it, “All done.”

“The clothes fit alright?”

“They’re fine. I also found the powerbank too. Thank you, Mattsun.”

“No problem.” Matsukawa moves a little closer so he can see Oikawa a little better, “Oikawa, we’re going to find a place to grab something to eat. It’s been a long day and we really have to talk about what we’re going to do next. How does ramen sound?”

“Ok.” he replies. Before he can get out of the backseat, Hanamaki interjects, “I’ll drive us there, Oikawa. I owe you one for picking me up for the airport.”   

Oikawa smiles weakly, “That you do, Makki.”

They all hop in the car; Oikawa sitting with the duffle bag in the back seat and Matsukawa taking the passenger seat. Hanamaki starts up the car and drives towards the exit. He’s about to turn left when Oikawa lurches forward so he’s level with the two front seats, “Not that way. Go right.”

“Why?” Hanamaki asks.

“If you go that way, you might – it’s where—the accident.” Oikawa stammers.

“Oh, right.” Hanamaki turns the steering wheel the other way and pulls out onto the road.

They drive away from the area where Iwaizumi’s accident had been until they come to a little ramen place on the opposite side of Yokohama. The ramen place is practically empty except for few elderly gentlemen sitting at the front of the shop and a mother with her baby by the small fish tank, but they still ask for a table at the back taking the duffle bag with them. They order the usual: Hanamaki asks for extra chashu pork in his tonkotsu, Matsukawa requests a side of gyoza with his tantanmen and Oikawa simply orders a bowel of shoyu ramen.

They don’t bring up what happened with Oikawa until after the server brings their orders out. 

“Oikawa, do you want to tell us what happened?”

Oikawa is quiet a first – stirring around the noodles in the ramen broth as Matsukawa and Hanamaki slowly start to eat their food, but then he lets out a frustrated groan and stabs his chopstick down into the bowl, splattering some of the broth over the front of his borrowed jumper.

“I was so damned close. Iwa-chan was right there and then Midori and the old guy with the dog almost caught me and Iwa-chan just drove off and I lost him in the traffic, it was raining so hard, and then—”

“Whoa there, Oikawa; slow down. Start from the beginning.”

Oikawa sits back in the booth, “I got there in time. Iwaizumi was still alive – I saw him. He was alive,” Oikawa looks happy for a moment, smiling fondly, but then he frowns again as he continues on, “but I didn’t get to see him for very long, nor did I get to speak with him. He was in the middle of an argument with Midori.”

“They were arguing? About what?” Hanamaki asks around a bite of pork.

Oikawa doesn’t reply, but he does reach into his jumper pocket to pull out his phone and the powerbank. He flicks through the pages on his phone until he comes across what he’s looking for. For a moment, Matsukawa think he’s going to show them a picture of Iwaizumi and his wife in the midst of a fight, but instead Oikawa brings up a recording app and motions for them to lean in closer so they can hear properly.

The grainy recording starts off pretty tame. All couples have their fights, he would know seeing as it was all Hanamaki and he did towards the tail end of their relationship, but the argument between Iwaizumi and Midori gradually snowballs into something a little more serious then the spats Hanamaki and he used to have.

_“Explain what? That Kin – my sweet, little girl, isn’t actually my daughter? Oh yes, please explain the minute details of how that came to be!”_

“What?” Hanamaki chokes. A bit of pork flies out of his mouth and onto the table. “Oikawa, what—”

“Shhhhh.” Oikawa hisses, leaning even closer to the table.

It’s a shocking revelation to say the least, and Matsukawa wants to ask about a million questions, but he listens on to the heated conversation until it comes to an end. 

“Fuck, what the hell was that?” Hanamaki remarks shrewdly, “Iwaizumi is not Kin’s father, did I hear that correctly?”

“You sure did, Makki.” Oikawa starts eating again in gusto, his brow furrowed as he chews.

“Jesus, no wonder he had an accident, he probably wasn’t in the right state of mind.” Hanamaki says bluntly.

“It’s all her fault.” Oikawa snaps.

“What happened after that?” Matsukawa cajoles. He doesn’t want Oikawa going on another Midori-tirade right now.

“Iwaizumi left the apartment around the time I stopped the recording. I tried to follow after him but Midori came out into the backyard so I couldn’t leave.”

“What do you mean you couldn’t leave? Wait, did you trespass, Oikawa?” Hanamaki marvels, “You’ve become a badass in your old age.”

“I had to, Makki! And I’m not old; I’m thirty one—no, twenty six! Anyways, I had to call Iwaizumi’s landline so Midori would go back inside. Once she did I climbed back over the fence and set off after Iwaizumi, but someone saw me – the guy with the dog I mentioned before – which slowed me down. By the time I managed to get away from him, Iwaizumi had driven off. I tried to track him down in my car but the traffic and the weather was horrendous, so I tried reaching him by foot, but I was too goddamn late.”

 _Geez, I didn’t think Oikawa would have to go through so much._  

Matsukawa feels incredibly guilty; it had been his actions that led to them going back in time far too late to make a substantial impact. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Oikawa. It was stupid of me to send us back so late in the day. I should have given us more time too—”

“Oi,” Hanamaki interrupts, giving his arm a backhanded slap and levelling him with a stern look, “it’s not your fault. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t even be in a position to save Iwaizumi. It’s like you said before – we can still save Iwaizumi as long as we’re careful with our time jumps. Self-pity doesn’t suit you.”

“Uh...thanks?” Matsukawa replies; slightly startled by Hanamaki’s kind words.

As if just realising what he had said and who he had said it to, Hanamaki averts his gaze to his food and starts eating fervently, a hint of red dusting his cheekbones while Oikawa watches on, not bothering to hide his amusement. It seems Hanamaki and he’s awkward exchange had lightened the mood, albeit just a little. 

“I’m upset I didn’t get to Iwa-chan in time.” Oikawa murmurs. He taps his fingers on the table idly, mulling over his words, “while I was at the park waiting for the two of you, I kept asking myself – how could I have been so careless? I failed to save Iwaizumi – he was right there too! But, like the both you keep telling me, there’s still a chance. As long as we keep trying, we’ll eventually save Iwa-chan.”

“That’s right.” Hanamaki agrees, “I’m not stopping until Iwaizumi is alive and well.”

Matsukawa nods, “Ok then. I think it’s time we start planning out our plan of attack.”

“I think we need to go back even further.” Oikawa starts. He’s using what Matsukawa dubs as his ‘teacher voice’, “the problem stems from our high school days.” 

“You mean Midori.” Hanamaki deadpans.

“Well that’s when they met.” Oikawa points out. Hanamaki scoffs.

“You both heard the recording; she cheated on him then lied to Iwa-chan about Kin-chan being his daughter. Iwaizumi even said something about ‘all the shit she put him through’ and he even said he wanted to file for a divorce. I think that’s reason enough.” Oikawa clips, pushing his ramen bowl aside.

“You’ve always hated Midori, though. You’re a tad biased.” Hanamaki rationalises.

 _Here they go,_ Matsukawa bemoans.

“You’re really sticking up for her, Makki?”

“No. What she did as terrible, but you have your Midori-blinkers on. You want to prevent them from getting together? Think of the butterfly effect that will have.”

“Makki, you can’t be serious.”

“All I’m saying is that it’s something we need to consider.”

“I don’t think Iwa-chan even wanted to go through with the wedding. Do you remember Iwa-chan’s bachelor party? He was all mopey and quiet!” Oikawa argues, “I remember him telling me that night that he didn’t think he could go through with it!”

“That’s the first time I’m hearing this.” Hanamaki replies.

It’s also Matsukawa’s first time hearing it too. From what he remembers – it was a bit of blurry memory thanks to the copious amounts of alcohol – Iwaizumi had been an active participant in the festivities. The day had started off in the mid morning with a few sets of volleyball with the old high school team – Oikawa had planned the bachelor party after all – then moved onto Iwaizumi’s favourite ramen shop for lunch. They then went for a scenic hike around Sendai – which Hanamaki and Kunimi had tried to get out of multiple times – then they all went back to their respective hotel rooms to shower and get ready for the night portion of the party. Oikawa had planned a dinner at popular karaoke joint, where they could sing themselves hoarse and drink to their hearts content, but not even two hours in, Oikawa had called it a day – around the same time an intense duet between Yahaba and Watari was underway. He had left somewhere around dusk, Matsukawa vaguely remembers, because he noticed the last tendrils of sunlight sneaking through the venetian blinds in their karaoke room. It had probably been a bit much for him, having to plan the bachelor party of the man he loved. It was no wonder he had left prematurely— 

_Wait a second._

“That night? Didn’t you leave early, Oikawa?”

“Hmm?”

“You just said ‘I remember him telling me that _night’_ , but you left before the sun went down. How could have Iwaizumi told you anything if the last time you saw him was at the karaoke joint?”

Oikawa eyes widen comically for a couple of seconds before he schools his features into textbook nonchalance, “Did I say night? I meant that _day_.”

He might not know Oikawa’s tells as well as Iwaizumi, but he knows Oikawa well enough to know when and when he isn’t telling the truth.

Hanamaki seems to have picked up on the lie as well and narrows his eyes at Oikawa, “You’re lying. Did you and Iwaizumi meet up later that night?”  

Oikawa lets out a tsk, “I don’t see what the big deal is. So what if Iwaizumi came around to my room for a chat that night.”

“You’re the one who lied just now.” Hanamaki points out. Oikawa balks and looks away, not saying a word.

Hanamaki sneakily reaches for Oikawa’s phone and taps on the screen, “Now that I think about it, Midori said something interesting in the recording.”

Hanamaki scrubs through the recording until he finds what he’s looking for and presses play.

_“I certainly don’t look at my friends the way you look at Oikawa.” Midori snaps, “It’s no wonder I’ve done what I’ve have, my husband is in love with another man!”_

_“But you—”_

Hanamaki peers back at Oikawa, “What did Midori mean by that?”

“I don’t know!” is Oikawa’s shrill reply. A few other customers in the shop look over at them, and Matsukawa instinctively hunches over the table a little to try and block out the view of their booth.

They’re probably pushing Oikawa too much, but there’s something Oikawa’s hiding from them; something important.

“It sounds to me like Midori is implying that Iwaizumi—”

“Iwa-chan and I slept together the night of his bachelor party, alright!” Oikawa bites out.

Hanamaki drops his chopsticks and they clatter to the floor, the noise almost deafening in the wake of Oikawa’s revelation.

 

_(August 2019)_

Iwaizumi’s bachelor party had been a success.

Oikawa was currently sitting at a low table with the majority of their high school volleyball team and a few of Iwaizumi’s friends from university, watching as Yahaba and Watari fiddled around on the tablet as they tried to find a song they could both sing together after Matsukawa and Hanamaki finished their poorly executed attempt at rapping an entire song.

It came as no surprise to Oikawa though that the bachelor party would be a hit – he did know Iwaizumi best, so it made sense that he would know exactly what Iwaizumi would actually enjoy doing for his bachelor party, unlike his uni friends that had suggested going to a strip joint...

To try and distract himself from the reason why they were throwing Iwaizumi a bachelor party in the first place, Oikawa had decided to squeeze as much as he could into the day so he didn’t have really think about it. But now as he sits here, sipping on his second beer of the afternoon it’s all he can think about.

In two days time, Iwaizumi would be a married man; the first person from their high school group to settle down. It comes as no surprise that Midori would want to tie Iwaizumi down one way or another; he was a keeper. Oikawa should be proud and happy for his friend – that he had found someone whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but Oikawa only feels hollow and numb.

He had always hoped somewhere in the back of his heart, Iwaizumi and Midori would call it quits and maybe, someday, things between the two of them would—

 _Nope_ , he thinks as tears sting at his eyes, _I don’t think I can pretend I want to be here for much longer._

He fakes a yawn to mask the wetness in his eyes as tiredness and leans over to Iwaizumi, who’s nursing a newly poured beer. He taps his shoulder, “I think I’m going to call it day, Iwa-chan.”

“But it’s still early,” Iwaizumi says, a hint of worry in his olive eyes, “you feeling, alright?”

“I’m quite exhausted from today, and my knee is a little sore from all the hiking we did, so I think I might have an early night.” He fibs.

Oikawa polishes off the rest of his drink, wincing at the taste and stands up, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Iwa-chan! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

He calls out to the others and says his goodbyes then ambles out of the karaoke joint, walking back to the hotel alone.

Once he gets back to his room, he collapses face down on the bed and mopes for a bit, then proceeds to the bathroom to have another shower in hopes it’ll cheer him up. He loiters around the room for the rest of the evening; he grades some exam papers, scrolls through social media and looks up random videos on YouTube until he genuinely starts to feel tired. It’s as he shuts off his laptop and slips it into its case does he hear someone knocking at his door.

He proceeds to the door - wondering who on Earth could be knocking on his door this late at night, and looks through the peep hole to see Iwaizumi standing out in the hallway. His heart flutters a little, but he ignores the feeling and opens the door.

“Iwa-chan, what—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Iwaizumi’s lips steal the words from right out of his mouth.

If his heart had been fluttering before, it’s like a jackhammer against his chest now. He wants so much to kiss him back; to wrap his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and open his mouth wide for Iwaizumi’s tongue to explore, but he can taste the beer in Iwaizumi’s mouth and the budding excitement turns into crushing disappointment. Oikawa has the presence of mind to sneak his hands between their bodies to firmly nudge at Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi gets the message and their lips part with a loud smack.

“You’re drunk.” Oikawa says reaching for the door and closing it for privacy.

“I’m buzzed, but sober enough to know what I’m doing.” Iwaizumi replies.

“And what’s that exactly?” Oikawa barks a laugh as he walks further into the hotel room. He whirls around once he’s in line with the bed and glares at Iwaizumi.

“I don’t know. I just felt like seeing you is all, and when I saw you just now I couldn’t help myself.”

Oikawa wills himself not to blush, “You’re getting married in two days, what about poor Midori-chan?”

“’Poor’ is the last thing I would use to describe Midori.”

“I thought her family was well off?” is Oikawa’s perplexed question.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Huh, but—”

“I really don’t want to be talking about Midori right now.” Iwaizumi spits. He storms over to the bed and plonks himself on the edge, resting his head in his hands.

Worried, Oikawa takes a seat next to him and hesitantly places his hand on Iwaizumi’s knee, “Iwa-chan, is everything okay?”

The most logical reason to all this would be cold feet before the wedding. It surely couldn’t be anything else, couldn’t it?

“This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out. I don’t think I can go through with it.” Iwaizumi mutters into his hands.

“What does that mean?”

“I should be marrying you not Midori.”

Oikawa’s hand flies away from Iwaizumi’s knee as he stands up from the bed, “Buh?”

Iwaizumi’s hands slip away from his face as he turns to look up at Oikawa, “I love you, dumbass.”

Oikawa swallows. He stares long and hard at Iwaizumi, looking for the lie or hints of inebriation, but all he sees is the burning sincerity in Iwaizumi’s olive eyes.

“I love you too.” Oikawa rasps as he rushes towards Iwaizumi.

He leaps into Iwaizumi’s arms and sends them both sprawling onto the bed. Somehow their lips meet again, and Oikawa’s hands move to tangle themselves in Iwaizumi’s hair as Iwaizumi’s own snake their way around Oikawa’s shoulder blades.

Their mouths twist and turn as they writhe on the bed. Iwaizumi’s tongue drags along with Oikawa’s, while his hands creep their way down to Oikawa’s ass, encouraging him to grind down onto his groin.

“Ahh, fuck.” Oikawa groans as he pulls away for air. Iwaizumi takes the opportunity to latch onto Oikawa’s slender neck, sucking and licking at the pale skin.

“Iwa—Hajime,” Oikawa puffs, “I—I,”

“Hmm?”

“Are we really doing this?”

“Doing what.” he half-heartedly replies as he works his way down Oikawa’s neck to his collarbone.

“What do you think—fuuhhh,” he yelps as Iwaizumi rolls his hips upwards, “Hajime!”

This makes Iwaizumi pause his ministrations and Oikawa proceeds, “Look, I’ve never done this before with anyone, so you’ll have to—”

“Either have I.”

Oikawa’s mouth fall open, “You and Midori have been dating since high school, I thought—”

“I insisted we waited until marriage.”

“So you’re a—”

Iwaizumi smirks, “A virgin, just like you, dumbass.”

Oikawa slaps his shoulder and squawks, “Don’t say it like that, Iwa-chan!”

The hearty chuckle Iwaizumi lets out makes Oikawa laugh too, even though he tries to keep a straight face. It’s been a while since he’s heard Iwaizumi laugh like this.

“I really do love you, Hajime,” Oikawa murmurs, settling closer to Iwaizumi so he can nudge their noses together, “but are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I do, Tooru.”

 _But he’s getting married,_ a small voice in his head reminds him.

That’s reason enough to stop this and part ways, but Oikawa doesn’t think he could say no to Iwaizumi; not now. Iwaizumi had come to him of his own accord, clearly upset and in need of comfort, and also willing to proceed despite the consequences. Although it’s highly likely this could be the first and last time the two of them would be together like this, Oikawa finds that he doesn’t care about the fact it’s technically cheating since a rather large part of him has wanted this for a very long time.

He’s always been selfish when it came to Iwaizumi.

They take off each other’s clothes and kiss on the bed for a while; building up the courage to progress onwards. Gradually they grow bolder; tongues licking at nipples and hands working each until they both come over their stomachs. Oikawa recovers from his orgasm first, and moves down Iwaizumi’s torso to take him into his mouth; working him to full hardness again as he teases Iwaizumi’s perineum with his fingers. He makes himself stop before Iwaizumi gets too worked up, and as he sits up to admire his work Iwaizumi grabs him by the hips and flips him onto his stomach so he can nip his way down Oikawa’s spine to the cleft of his ass. Iwaizumi does a go job of preparing Oikawa for what’s to come, so much so Oikawa bites down on the doona hard enough to slightly tear it.

Iwaizumi stops and turns Oikawa over again and kisses him tenderly; a complete contrast to his previous actions. Oikawa hand makes its way to Iwaizumi’s cheek so he can stroke his cheekbone with his thumb.

 _Was it possible to love someone so much,_ he asks himself, smiling up at Iwaizumi as he pulled away to look down at him.

Iwaizumi gets off the bed to grab a condom from his wallet – briefly explaining that one of his uni friends had slipped it to him before he had known that going to a strip joint was not on the agenda for his bachelor party, and Oikawa huffs a laugh but sends a silent thank you to Iwaizumi’s friend for his insightfulness. When Iwaizumi comes back to the bed, Oikawa helps him roll the condom on and lays back down, arms reaching up to hold onto Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

It’s not pleasant at first – in fact it hurts quite a lot, but Iwaizumi is patient and gentle as Oikawa adjusts to the new feeling. Eventually the pain is replaced with pleasure, and Oikawa can’t stop himself from moaning or from raking his fingernails up and down Iwaizumi’s back as Iwaizumi thrusts relentlessly; sweat dripping from his forehead onto Oikawa’s chest. They both don’t last long, but they can’t find themselves to care as their second orgasms of the night hits them both as they gasp out each other’s name.

Iwaizumi gets up a minute later, dragging one last moan from Oikawa as he pulls out. He disposes the condom into the bin and goes to the bathroom to get something to clean them both with. Once they’re both cleaned up, Oikawa pulls back the covers and slips underneath, Iwaizumi following him. They cuddle up together, Iwaizumi pulling Oikawa to his chest, and the last thing Oikawa remembers before he drifts to sleep is the steady beating of Iwaizumi’s heart as he rests his head on Iwaizumi’s chest.

The following morning Oikawa wakes to find Iwaizumi already sitting on the edge of the bed staring out the window.

“I’m still getting married tomorrow.” Iwaizumi whispers, not looking at him.

Oikawa had known this was going to come, had tried to mentally prepare himself for it the night before as he drifted off to sleep and now when he had woken up with the space beside him empty.

But it still _hurts_.

“I know, Iwa-chan. I know.”

Iwaizumi gets dressed while Oikawa watches from his spot on the bed, willing himself not to cry. Iwaizumi walks around the bed, heading towards the door, but then he stops and makes his way to Oikawa and drops a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

When the door clicks shut, Oikawa doesn’t even try to stop the tears.

 

(January 2021)

 

“Oikawa...” Matsukawa whispers, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What was I supposed to say?” Oikawa looks glumly down at the table, “That I slept with my best friend two days before he was due to be married? No, Iwa-chan and I kept it to ourselves, unless Midori somehow found out, I don’t know.” 

“Did it ever happen after—”

“No, that was the only time.”

The server comes over to take away their finished meals. Before she leaves, she asks if they would like anything else, to which Matsukawa politely declines and asks for the bill. When the server comes back with the bill, they fork out money to pay for their portion, take it to the front desk and leave.

“We need to go back to our last year in high school,” Oikawa says a faraway look in his eyes, as the three of them walk back to the car. He’s carrying the duffle bag carefully in his arms, being mindful of the time box inside, “I think if we stop Iwa-chan and Midori from having any significant interactions, we’ll prevent Iwa-chan from dying.”

Hanamaki – who still has Oikawa’s car keys, presses the button to unlock the car, sighs, “Oikawa...”

“I know what it sounds like, but had you been there that night when Iwa-chan came to my hotel room you would understand why I feel this way. If you had noticed – _really noticed,_ what Midori was like back in high school you would see where I’m coming from!”

They pile into the car, taking the same seats as before. Matsukawa leans back in the passenger seat, his headache still thumping away painfully as Hanamaki starts driving while he bickers with Oikawa. He could see where Oikawa was coming from, and while he agreed that Midori wasn’t a very nice person, he didn’t quite know if Oikawa’s plan to go back all the way to 2012 would even work. Firstly, because he still wasn’t 100% sure how this time jumping thing with the time box worked. He was still scared out of his mind that it wasn’t going to work and they were going to be stuck in a time that they didn’t technically belong in. Secondly – like Hanamaki had pointed out before, there was no telling what effect their actions would have on ‘their’ future. Would things really work out for the best? Or would they be worse off?

“Oikawa, what the fuck! What are you doing?” Hanamaki’s voice rings out through the car.

They’ve pulled over in a quiet street, Matsukawa realises belatedly.

_How out of it was I?_

He quickly comes to as he sees what Oikawa is doing in the back seat of the car through the rear view mirror. He is holding the time box, twisting and turning the dials, his tongue poking out between the sides of his mouth.

“Oikawa—shit,” Matsukawa hisses as the seatbelt reefs him back into his seat as he tries to reach over for the time box, “Oikawa, be careful!”

“I am being careful, Mattsun.” is Oikawa’s flippant reply as he tinkers away.

“Oikawa, please.” Matsukawa unbuckles his seatbelt and turns so he’s fully facing Oikawa, “if it gets damaged, we’ll be in big trouble.”

Something nudges his shoulder, and Matsukawa looks over at Hanamaki. He gives him a look – eyes shifting between the time box and Matsukawa, and gestures with his paper-thin eyebrows. Matsukawa gets the idea and nods, and then holds up three fingers for a three second countdown.

_3_

Hanamaki and Matsukawa edge slightly closer to the back of the car.  

_2_

Oikawa looks up.

_1_

Hanamaki and Matsukawa dive for Oikawa, each of them latching a hand onto a corner of the time box.

Oikawa squawks in surprise, as his hand slips a little along the dials, “Mattsun, Makki, let go!”

“Oikawa,” Matsukawa wheezes. Hanamaki and he are currently squeezed tightly together in the space between the driver and passenger seat, and as pleasant as it to be this close to Hanamaki, this isn’t exactly what Matsukawa had in mind, “please give it to me.”

“Mattsun, _please_. This is how we save Iwa-chan. Not by stopping the car accident, but by stopping Midori.”

“Oikawa, we still haven’t talked this through.” Hanamaki groans as he grapples with the headrest one-handed for balance.

Oikawa stares at the both of them contemplatively then lets out a sigh, “Fine.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa groan in relief and share a victorious grin, but as Matsukawa returns his gaze back to Oikawa the grin falls from his face just as he catches sight of Oikawa’s finger pressing down on the time box’s button.

 

(March 2013)

 

 _Well, this feels familiar,_ Oikawa thinks.

The weird disorientating feeling hits him in full force as he opens his eyes, and it’s almost like déjà vu when he looks up to see a bunch of teenagers staring back down at him.

He sits up but almost slips when the sleeves of his shirt slide along the floor, but luckily something rights him before he face plants.

“You idiot.” a voice groans.

Oikawa spins around and sees Hanamaki sitting on the floor next to him – his hand gripping Oikawa’s arm so he doesn’t slip while the other cradles the time box against his chest – and Matsukawa sprawled out on Hanamaki’s other side. What’s even more peculiar is their state of dress. Hanamaki is currently decked out in a taupe haori; his tabi-clad feet peeking out of his dark brown hakama. Matsukawa and he are in similar outfits, except Matsukawa’s haori is a slate colour and Oikawa’s is a navy blue.

_What the... our graduation party? This isn’t right..._

“Oikawa-san, are you okay?” a girl’s voice squeaks.

Oikawa starts turning towards the voice, but before he can even utter a reply he’s being yanked up and away from his peers.

“We’re fine! Nothing to see here, let’s us through, guys!” Hanamaki barks to the crowd, pulling Oikawa along as he follows Matsukawa to the exit doors.

Matsukawa opens the door and Hanamaki and Oikawa walk through, Oikawa pushing the door closed behind him.

“Good going, Oikawa. What happened to planning out our next jump, huh?” Hanamaki snaps while Matsukawa dutifully inspects the time box.

Oikawa grits his teeth, “It’s not my fault the both you weren’t listening to my idea!”

“You bitching about Midori isn’t an _idea_.”

Oikawa puffs out his chest and steps closer to Hanamaki, “If the both of you hadn’t bumped me, we would’ve gone back to the right year! I set it for March 2012, but we’re in March 2013! We’ve just wasted a jump in time because the two of you wouldn’t listen to me and interfered with what I was doing!”

“Well you probably broke the damn thing.”

“It’s not broken.” Matsukawa supplies helpfully.

Hanamaki runs his hand through his short hair, “Thank god. Let’s get out of here and out of these clothes. I feel like a walking heater in this damn get up.”

“Wait,” Oikawa pleads, “maybe we can still do something about Iwa-chan and Midori.”

“I thought you said we wasted a jump.” Hanamaki quips as he tugs at his obi.

“It’s not ideal, but maybe there’s something we can do.”

“Like what?”

“Like find Iwa-chan and talk to him?”

“And say what, ‘Iwaizumi, we’re from the future and we’re here to stop you from falling into the evil clutches of Midori’?”

“Don’t be a dick, Makki. We need—”

“Speaking of Iwaizumi and Midori, isn’t that them?” Matsukawa interrupts. Hanamaki and Oikawa divert their attention to where Matsukawa is pointing. It’s them all right. They’re several years younger and in their formal dress – Iwaizumi in his black haori and Midori in her red kimono; Midori leading Iwaizumi around a corner.

“Fuck,” Hanamaki croaks, “it’s Iwaizumi, it’s really him.”

Matsukawa is in an equal state of shock, but Oikawa is already on the move, running as fast as his sandals will let him towards the building that Iwaizumi and Midori just went around.

“Wait, Oikawa!” Hanamaki calls, two sets of sandals slapping on the asphalt behind him as his friends follow.

Oikawa reaches the corner and stops short so he can peek around it to see Iwaizumi and Midori standing a short distance away.

“Oikawa,” Hanamaki hisses behind him. Oikawa glances over his shoulder to see Hanamaki leaning against the wall for balance as he shucks his sandals off, “could you not—”

“I really like you, Hajime-kun.” Midori voice cuts into the silence of the night, “please be my boyfriend.”

Oikawa snaps his attention back to Iwaizumi and Midori; behind him he hears Hanamaki and Matsukawa shift closer as well.

_So they weren’t going out to begin with?_

Iwaizumi’s rubbing the back of his head in what looks embarrassment, “Uh...”

“I think you’re a wonderful person. You’re kind, reliable, and so strong...” she gushes.

“Thanks?” Iwaizumi says unsurely.

“What do you like about me?” Midori prompts.

“I’m sorry?”

Midori trills and says something about Iwaizumi being too shy, and laughs just a little too loud. Oikawa shudders at the awkwardness of the exchange. He doesn’t think it could get any worse, but it does.

In an act of boldness, Midori leans up to plant a kiss on Iwaizumi’s lips, but Iwaizumi catches her by her forearms and gently stops her from leaning any further. It feels awfully like the time Oikawa had tried to find Iwaizumi after their loss to Karasuno and had almost witnessed a kiss between the two before he was interrupted by Kindaichi and Kunimi. Except this time, he hadn’t been interrupted and, well, Iwaizumi rejected the kiss from Midori. Maybe there hadn’t been a kiss between them at all? Was Iwa-chan not interested in Midori?

“Midori, look, I think you’re a great person, but I’m not interested in a relationship right now.”

Oikawa shares a look with Hanamaki and Matsukawa who both exhibit the same degree of confusion. From memory he recalls Iwaizumi and Midori becoming official a few days after the graduation party.

_What the hell is going on?_

“Oh.” is Midori’s quiet response.

“I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi apologises.

“Is there someone else?”

“Someone else?” Iwaizumi asks puzzled.

Midori doesn’t look happy with Iwaizumi’s response at all Oikawa notes, “It’s _him_ isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Oikawa Tooru.” Midori answers.

Oikawa feels his heart plummet within his rib cage when Iwaizumi opens his mouth to say something but ends up clamping his lips together, the words escaping him.

“You do, don’t you?”

Iwaizumi only nods his head in the affirmative.

Midori shifts her weight onto her right leg, “I thought so.”

Oikawa desperately wants to run to Iwaizumi right now; proclaim his love in return and ask him to be his forever and go back to 2026 and live happily ever after. But Hanamaki has a firm hand on Oikawa’s shoulder, keeping him in place. He’s probably in the doghouse with Hanamaki and Matsukawa right now for sending them all back in time without warning, so he should really be on his best behaviour from now on. Plus, he supposes he should wait until Midori and Iwaizumi are finished talking, it’s the least he could for Midori; she did just suffer a heavy blow.

“Oikawa-san is really amazing. It makes sense.” Midori points out.

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi croaks. He’s got a stupid smile on his face that burns a blush onto Oikawa’s cheeks.

Hanamaki snorts quietly behind him, “Pfft, yeah right.” Oikawa ignores him.

“Is it true that he received a scholarship to play volleyball at Tokyo University?”

“He did.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Midori shifts her weight to the opposite side, and folds her arms across her chest, “Tokyo University is a good school - my father is an alumnus there.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm. Best years of my father’s life so he tells me; made lots of friends, some of which are now members of the university board.”

Iwaizumi whistles, “Wow, that’s pretty high up isn’t it?”

“It is. They have a lot of pull on various things. Like scholarships.”

“I’m sorry?” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows lower at Midori’s words.

“Tokyo University is very _traditional;_ they have standards to uphold, you know? I don’t think they would want to concern themselves with potential students that don’t fit those standards.”

Distraught, Iwaizumi utters, “What are you saying?”

“I think you know what I mean, Hajime-kun. What do you think the university board would do if they found out that Oikawa-san – a scholarship student, was a homosexual? Do you think he’ll still get the scholarship—wait that’s not the right question—do you think Oikawa-san will be accepted as a student? Do you think they’ll allow him to play volleyball at tertiary level?”  

Iwaizumi shuffles back from Midori as Oikawa lurches forward. Hanamaki and Matsukawa both grab him, pulling him back and for good measure Hanamaki slaps a hand over Oikawa’s mouth just as he bites out a growl.

“Shhhhh,” Matsukawa murmurs, as forces Oikawa to take a step back, “you’ll blow our cover.”

 _No,_ Oikawa’s mind screams, _no, this can’t be happening._

“Y-you can’t be serious.” Iwaizumi stutters out from around the building.

“That depends entirely on you, Hajime-kun; _Oikawa-san’s_ future depends entirely on you.”

“Please,” Iwaizumi begs, “Don’t do this. The scholarship means the world to Oikawa – he’s worked so hard for it. Don’t take it away from him.”

 _The scholarship means nothing compared to you!_ Oikawa struggles in Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s grip, but there’s no use, their eighteen-year-old-selves are deceptively strong, _Goddammit, Hajime!_

“I’ll do anything, just please - leave Oikawa’s future out of it.”

The tone in Iwaizumi’s voice sounds so defeated and it’s killing Oikawa. He needs to intervene; he needs to stop this from happening before it’s too late.

“Anything?” Midori asks.

 _No!_ Oikawa cries, as Hanamaki and Matsukawa drag him away from the corner.

“Anything.” Iwaizumi says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Another jump in time...
> 
> Smash the kudos, bookmark, subscription and comment buttom ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> P.S. 1800-HOW'S-MY-WRITING


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, long time no see...
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the late update - I've recently started a new job and am training myself up for another job as well (so all up three in total -_-) so I've been spread thin lately with all the other stuff going on as well. 
> 
> So here's chapter 6...I guess you could call it an 'intermission' chapter. Also, while I have your attention, I should probably let you know that I finished planning out the rest of the story and I anticipate that it should be finished within 3-5 chapters (if I decide to include an epilogue chapter). While some of the main 'speed bumps' came to light in the last chapter (#sorrynotsorry), there's a couple more things that are due to come up to make things a bit...complicated. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy reading guys. Let me know if you have any idea/predictions on how you think the rest of the story will go ;)

** CHAPTER SIX **

 

(March, 2013)

 

Somehow they manage to get Oikawa away quietly.

It had been quite the effort; the both of them resorting to picking up Oikawa at either end – Hanamaki’s hand still covering Oikawa’s mouth as he had awkwardly held his friend against his chest, while Matsukawa lifted his legs – and carried him off a fair distance away to a lone tree by the car park.

Matsukawa drops Oikawa’s legs once the three of them manoeuvre behind it and Oikawa lurches forward, trying to escape Hanamaki’s hold. The hand that had been covering Oikawa’s mouth flies around to hold Oikawa by the forearm, “Oikawa, stop it! We have to be smart about this.”

“Let me go, Makki! Let me go right now!” Oikawa snarls as he thrashes in Hanamaki’s hold.

Matsukawa – who had been patting at his obi where he had stashed the time box, ambles over and settles his hands firmly on Oikawa’s shoulders, “Oikawa, you have every right to be angry, but you need to calm—”

“Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down, Mattsun! You both heard what just went down, so don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” Oikawa elbows Hanamaki in the side, which prompts Hanamaki to release him; Matsukawa's hands slide from Oikawa’s shoulders in surprise.

“Oww! What the fuck, Oikawa?!” Hanamaki yelps, clutching at his side.

Instead of running off back to Iwaizumi like Matsukawa had anticipated, Oikawa takes a step away from them, his eyes alight with fury as he clenches his fists by his sides , “I knew Midori was trouble, but this?! She’s been blackmailing Iwa-chan all this time?!”

“It would appear so.” Matsukawa sighs as he rakes his hand through his hair, hoping to drag away the headache with said hand.  

Oikawa lets out a growl, “I’m going to kill her.”  

Hanamaki snaps his head up from where he had been inspecting the spot where Oikawa had elbowed him, “No you will not, you idiot. Do you honestly think that’ll make things better? You’re forgetting we have the means to travel through time – we can still fix this!”

“But knowing what I know now doesn’t make things any easier!”

“I know that but –”

“Don’t you get it?! All this time Iwa-chan has been living with this horrible secret and that horrible person – and it’s all because of me! Everything that he did was all for me, and how did I repay him? I fuck up my knee, effectively ending my career as a professional volleyball player – so I guess it really didn’t matter if I got the scholarship or not, huh?  

“Worse still, when he did manage to let slip that things weren’t okay – on the night of his bachelor party, I did nothing; I didn’t press him for details, I didn’t let him vent.” Oikawa slumps onto the ground and buries his head into the palms of his hands, “Not once in the time Midori came into our lives did I ever seek Iwa-chan’s side of the story – I just made assumptions. I failed him. I was supposed to be his friend – I was supposed to be there for him, and I failed him.”

It’s becoming all too repetitive – watching Oikawa breakdown in anger or sadness before him, and while Matsukawa wants to tell Oikawa that he’s wrong; that it’s not his fault that this has happened, he finds that he can’t fully disagree with Oikawa’s statements. He recalls their last year of high school when Midori had become a constant fixture in Iwaizumi’s life and how Oikawa had backed away from Iwaizumi gradually despite how hurt he had been. Perhaps if Oikawa hadn’t gotten so wrapped up in his self-doubt and jealously, maybe Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s mutual feelings would have come to light way before Midori’s meddling became too troublesome?

But he’s also one to talk. For all the times Oikawa avoided the issue or had vented to him or Makki about Midori’s ‘clinginess’, he had turned a blind eye and ribbed Oikawa about it or spouted some nonsense about it not being his business and that everything would work out eventually. And look how that turned out...

 _However_ , he reasons, as his hand comes to rest over the section of his obi where the time box is jutting out, _we still have a chance to right all the wrongs of the past._   

“I always thought that your hatred for Midori stemmed from the jealously you harboured towards her – and that was the reason why you were so cut up about it,” Matsukawa addresses Oikawa, who is now peering over his cupped hands at him, “but now after everything that we have learnt within the last day, I can see now that I was wrong.” He crouches down so he can face Oikawa properly, “And for that I am sorry, Oikawa. As a friend, I have failed _you_.”

“Matsukawa is right, Oikawa.” Hanamaki plonks onto his bottom with a solemn expression on his face, “You shouldn’t place the blame solely on yourself when there were times we – Matsukawa and I – should have said something or done something. I think we’ve all done things that made _things_ worse. So please, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Oikawa’s gaze cuts between the two of his friends, and then without any warning Oikawa launches himself at the two of them and pulls them into a rough group hug.

“I-I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve friends like the both of y-you!” he wails.

“We literally just admitted to being crappy friends;” Hanamaki grouses, “how does that warrant a hug?”

“You might be crappy friends, but you’re still the best friends I’ve ever had. Without the two of you, I’d hate to think where I would be right now.”

“Don’t say that, dumbass.” Hanamaki cries back, his own voice a little choked up.

Matsukawa replies in kind by giving them both a warm pat on the back, his own throat starting to burn in the effort to stop his own blubbering.

They sit there on the ground for who knows how long. It’s nice not to be moving for once, Matsukawa thinks as he stares idly at the cars in the car park beside them as Oikawa and Hanamaki banter back and forth. In addition to the headache that is only just starting to ebb away, Matsukawa feels achy and lethargic.

 _I wouldn’t be opposed to warm bed and goodnight’s sleep right about now_ , he muses. He supposes the only way that can happen is if—

“We should jump back another year in time as soon as possible – to 2012.” he voices out loud.

“Is it safe to a do a time jump so soon?” Hanamaki asks.

The three of them are now sitting in a loosely formed circle facing each other, so Matsukawa starts unravelling some of his obi so he can retrieve the time box, “I don’t see why not. Besides I don’t feel like staying in a time where there isn’t much we can do. Midori has caused enough damage that if we try to go back an hour or so to stop that little chat from taking place, I get the feeling she’ll manage to catch Iwaizumi some other time to give him the same ultimatum.”

Hanamaki grimaces, “So it’s best if we go back to the root of the problem and stop all this crap from happening in the first place?” 

“Yeah.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before the two of you bumped me in the car back in 2021.” Oikawa points out haughtily, crossing his arms in front of his chest petulantly for extra effect, and Matsukawa is slightly taken aback by the how young Oikawa looks; he had momentarily forgotten that there were currently their eighteen-year-old-selves.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hanamaki flaps his wrist dismissively, “but we wouldn’t know what we do right now if Matsukawa and I had done what we did. Besides, you shouldn’t have been fiddling with it in the first place; that’s Matsukawa’s job.”

“Geh.” Oikawa huffs.

“I think we should establish some ground rules before we jump to 2012,” Matsukawa starts, “Firstly, no more abrupt and unplanned time jumps, we should decide as a threesome—uh a group before we make any decisions.”

“Threesome, eh?” Hanamaki says, grinning like a madman.

“Maybe some other time,” Matsukawa quips back automatically, “but can we agree on that rule at least?”

“Yeah.” the other two reply.

“Good. Next, now that we have a clear objective on what needs to be done, how exactly are we going to stop Midori from—well—doing what she’s going to do?”

The other two think to themselves, Oikawa drumming his fingers against his thigh as Hanamaki picks at a loose thread on his obi until Oikawa perks up and says, “We need try and pinpoint significant interactions between Iwa-chan and Midori and interrupt or stop them before they became something bigger...but I don’t know if we can even remember precisely when these moments took place...”

“Well, can you try and think of something off the top of your head?” Matsukawa asks.

“There was a lot of stuff that happened...” Oikawa scratches at his chin, squinting as he digs around in his memory bank, but then he frowns, “but I can’t remember _when_ exactly these moments happened. I remember she started at Aoba Johsai around March back in 2012?”

“As for what I remember, I recall Midori rocking up to almost every afternoon practice the team had since around mid-year. It was annoying as fuck.” Hanamaki adds.

“This may not be linked directly, but around that time I accepted a confession from—what was her name again—Akita? Perhaps this time I shouldn’t accept her confession,” Oikawa admits sheepishly, “There was also that time I heard those second years gossiping about Iwa-chan and Midori – maybe I should’ve said something to them to stop the rumours, and there was also—”

“Those are all well and good, and I’m sure there are plenty of moments we could go back to and alter, but we have to be wise with our jumps; we can’t go back to every moment Midori and Iwaizumi interacted with each other.” Matsukawa highlights.

“Well what do you propose we do then?”

“We should try to limit ourselves to 4 or even 5 jumps within March 2012 and March 2013 – including our jump back to 2026. If that’s what we decide to do, we need to pick the moments that were more _serious_ in nature – moments that if meddled with by us, will change the outcome, thus change the future – hopefully for the better.”

Hanamaki hums, “So we jump to a moment, interfere with it, then bunny hop to the next moment?” 

“Something like that.”

“Well what about the butterfly effect?” Oikawa ponders, “what if we change something say in May, then we jump to August and discover that the next interaction we wanted to fix no longer exists? What do we do then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Matsukawa settles the time box in the centre of their circle and winds the dial so the next time jump is set to the year 2012, “we can stay for a week or so to try and gauge the effect of our actions, then move on to the next jump we want to make; rinse and repeat. Otherwise, I think all we can do during each time jump is try our best to keep Iwaizumi and Midori’s interactions to a bare minimum. It sounds wishy washy I know, but I’m afraid this is the only plan I’ve got.”

“If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here right now, Mattsun.” Oikawa levels him a stern look, the same look he used to shoot him during practice when he used to opt out on receiving the feints, “so don’t get all pessimistic on us now, that’s Makki’s job.”

“Watch it, Hanger-san, or we might just jump without you.” Hanamaki sneers.

“You can have you’re alone time with Mattsun later—”

“Oi, Oikawa, Hanamaki, Matsukawa! Where are you? Dinner is being served!” The three of them jump six foot in the air at the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice calling out to them. 

“Looks like it’s time to go,” Matsukawa says, as he adds the final details to the time box, “I’ve sent our next jump for the first Tuesday in March 2012, we might as well start from the beginning; now both of you grab on, before Iwaizumi finds us.”

Hanamaki plasters his hand onto the time box, but beside him Oikawa remains unmoved, staring out into the night with a forlorn look in his brown eyes.

“Oikawa, you need to grab on.”

“I know but—Iwa-chan—he—”

“We’ll be seeing him soon, Oikawa, I promise.” Matsukawa intones. There’s nothing he would like more right now then to see his beloved friend again – to pull him into a hug and make some stupid joke about his height, but now isn’t the time. 

“Oikawa.” Hanamaki hisses. In the distance they can hear Iwaizumi’s voice growing louder as he nears their general vicinity. 

With one last pensive look towards where Iwaizumi is, Oikawa groans as he grabs onto his own section of the time box and closes his eyes as though the sight of Matsukawa pushing the button is too unbearable to watch.

 

****

 

(March, 2012)

 

It’s with a deep groan and an achy back that Oikawa awakens. He thought by now he’d be used to the rather uncomfortable arrival that seems to take place post-time jump; apparently not. 

_The sooner we finish this the better._

His volleyball shoes squeak along the floor as he sits up.

_Oh? Have we just had practice?_

He peruses his surroundings while he rubs both his hands along either side of his lower back, stimulating the blood flow back into the area. It would appear they’ve landed in their clubroom, post-practice if the pongy smell of sweat is anything to go by. Next to him, Hanamaki lets out a groan of his own as Matsukawa – who is sitting in front of them, sets the time box down on the floor before rubbing at his forehead.

“Are you guys alright?” Oikawa asks.

“I’ve had better pains in the ass, I’ll tell you that.” Hanamaki utters. Oikawa doesn’t miss the way Matsukawa jolts at the words.

Oikawa and Hanamaki both stand, while Matsukawa scoops the time box up, and then Hanamaki reaches out to give Matsukawa a hand up once it’s firmly in his grip.

“So this is March 2012, eh?” Hanamaki asks as pulls Matsukawa to a stand.

“Looks like,” Oikawa replies, eyeing the sea of white blazers, iliac long-sleeved shirts and dark red ties hanging on coat hangers and the multitude of sports bags scattered all over the floor and benches, “and it looks like we’ve just finished morning practice too.”

Matsukawa spots his own sports bag on one of the benches in front of the lockers and approaches it, quickly wrapping the time box in a sports towel and tucking it away in his bag. Oikawa and Hanamaki watch on in amusement.

Matsukawa catches their expressions and raises a bushy brow, “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Oikawa chuckles, “you’re just so clucky over that time box, Mattsun, it’s cute.”

“If it gets damaged we’re in big shit, and do you want someone to see it?” Matsukawa says flatly.

“We’re just yanking your chain, Matsukawa, there’s no need—”

“Oi, what the hell are you three doing in here?”

Whatever Hanamaki was trying to say, tapers off into a choked wheeze. Behind Matsukawa and standing in the doorway – tanned arms crossed over the white and teal of his uniform – is an irate Iwaizumi. 

“Just because you’re third years now, doesn’t mean you can just skimp out on tidying up the gym.” The trio whirl around to face the entryway.

Matsukawa recovers first and straightens up from his bent over position over his sports bag, “ _Iwaizumi._ ”

“I swear to god, if you’re looking at memes again, I’ll punt you to Tokyo.” The vein on Iwaizumi’s forehead seems to bulge out even further as his gaze darts over to Oikawa, who hasn’t said a word since Iwaizumi’s entrance, “And you, just because you’re captain now doesn’t mean you—what—hey, what’s wrong?”

His angry tirade forgotten, Iwaizumi walks over to Oikawa whose eyes are now watery with tears, but before he’s even two steps into the room, Oikawa has already sprung forward, arms reaching around Iwaizumi’s neck and yanking them both together chest to chest.

_Hajime, I’ve missed you so much._

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi arms hover awkwardly midair, as Oikawa buries his face into Iwaizumi’s collarbone, “Oikawa, what is it?” Worried and confused, he swivels his head around to Hanamaki and Matsukawa for help, but is met with similar melancholic expressions.

“What—”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa then approach him, with less haste than Oikawa and join in on the hug, arms settling around Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s backs, squeezing Iwaizumi’s arms against his sides. Iwaizumi turns his head to Hanamaki, who has taken the side not occupied by Oikawa and asks, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, just fine.” Hanamaki assures him, hand coming up to wipe away a runaway tear.

“It doesn’t look like you’re fine.” Iwaizumi observes, his brow lowering in concern while he tries to crane his neck a little higher, “did something happen?”

Matsukawa slowly comes out of the hug and ruffles Iwaizumi’s spiky hair, “Nah, we’re just getting a little sentimental in our old age; it’s our last year of high school after all. We were just talking about the good ol’ days in first and second year.”

“Oh, right.” Iwaizumi nods, still a bit perplexed by the whole thing. Matsukawa and Hanamaki stand back and collect themselves, while Oikawa still holds onto Iwaizumi, his head still hidden in Iwaizumi’s upper chest.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi tries again, his hands smoothing up and down his friend’s forearms.

Slowly, he peels himself away from Iwaizumi and wipes at his nose, “I’m okay, Iwa-chan, really.”

“Are you sure? If you need a moment I can handle things in the gym.”

“No really, I’m good to go.” Oikawa beams, his smile pure and straightforward.

“Well okay,” Iwaizumi says, still eyeing Oikawa speculatively. He lets go of Oikawa and starts turning back towards the doorway, “are you guys coming then? The others probably need help with the tidy up.”

“There’s no need, Iwaizumi-senpai,” a voice monotones from behind them, “it’s all done.”

Behind them some of the team start to filter in, most of them passing by them to get to their stuff without sparing the four a second glance, while Kunimi – who had spoken before to Iwaizumi, as well as Kindaichi, Watari and Yahaba, sidle up to them.

“Thanks for that,” Iwaizumi thanks Kunimi, hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “we, uh got held up.”

Oikawa almost squeaks with glee as he looks at his kouhai. The last time he had seen them had technically been seven months ago when he had organised a bigger reunion with the old Aoba Johsai volleyball team in Tokyo; he had forgotten how small and baby-faced they were back in high school.

“How are my cute little kouhai? It’s been so long since I last saw you!” he trills, spreading open his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“We literally saw you fifteen minutes ago, Oikawa-senpai,” Yahaba drawls, but since you’re asking, I am a little exhausted from all the extra cleaning I had to do since you went AWOL conveniently when practice finished.”

They all send him dirty looks; Iwaizumi and his kouhai for his lack of presence during the clean up, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa for almost blowing their cover with his weird question.    

“Now, now, Yahaba-chan,” Oikawa deflects, sending Hanamaki and Matsukawa a please-don’t-kill-me look, “come next year, you can avoid cleaning up after practice too, since you’ll be the senpai.”

Yahaba snorts, “Not everyone delegates like you, Oikawa-senpai.” he scrutinises Oikawa before adding quietly, “You’re eyes look red. Have you been crying?”

Before he can reply, Hanamaki cuts in, “His hay fever is playing up. That’s why he came up here in the first place – to see if he had anything he could take in his bag.”

“I might have something in my bag, Oikawa-senpai.” Watari says.

“Thank you, Watachi, but I should be fine,” Oikawa chirps, ushering his kouhai towards the lockers, “Now I think it’s time we get changed and get to homeroom; I don’t think being late the first week back will give the teachers a good impression~”

They all head back towards their respective bags to change, and Oikawa mentally sends his thanks to whatever deity there is that no one else comments on his red-rimmed eyes, and busies himself with the contents of his sports bag. He can feel Iwaizumi’s presence at his side, digging through his own sports bag, and Oikawa can’t stop himself from looking over to his friend, still in shock that Iwaizumi is alive and well and standing right beside him. Iwaizumi catches his gaze multiple times as they change, but says nothing as he goes about buttoning his shirt and folding his practice clothes into his locker. Oikawa finishes getting changed first and calls out to Iwaizumi that he’ll wait for him outside while he finishes up and heads out the door and down the stairs.

The warmth of the sun shining down upon him and the soft chirps of birds fluttering around amongst the branches in the nearby trees is enough for Oikawa to close his eyes and relax up against the building wall. He smiles to himself, “He’s really here.”

“He sure is.” Matsukawa replies from next to him, as he and Hanamaki step off the last step.

“I can’t believe it,” Oikawa whispers, “before, when I saw Iwaizumi in 2021 and then in 2013, I only got a glimpse of him but now Iwaizumi is really here in front of me.”

Hanamaki looks over his shoulder to check no one is coming and sighs, “It’s weird isn’t it? That the last time we saw Iwaizumi – besides snippets from our time jumps – was close to five years ago.”

Matsukawa shakes his head, “I still can’t believe I managed to find a device that allows us to travel through time. I’m still in shock.”

Above them, they hear the sounds on several footsteps making their way down the stairwell, so they hush up and move to the side to let the crowd through. Iwaizumi is among the crowd, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows as he balances his white blazer and bag strap on his shoulder. He looks up to his friends and gives them a toothy smile, “you guys ready to go?”

 

****

 

It’s at the end of last period when Oikawa sees _her._

Matsukawa, Hanamaki and he are waiting for Iwaizumi in the hallway so they can walk to afternoon practice together. While the news hadn’t officially reached their team or their coaches yet, the knowledge of Kageyama joining Karasuno is information Oikawa is going to take full advantage of, so he decides it should be safe at least to bring up the idea of a practice match with the other school with the other three during the walk to the clubroom.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki talk about something animatedly by the classroom window, so he decides to leave them both be while he people-watches, finding great entertainment in observing the students and teachers mulling about on their way to their respective clubs.

It’s as his eyes catch Iwaizumi exit the classroom that he notices a petite, black-haired girl in his periphery walk right by him, her head buried in what looks like a student diary. He freezes up, but keeps his attention locked on her as she makes her way down the corridor.  

Matsukawa places his hand on his shoulder, “Oikawa? What’s wrong?”

“It’s her.” Oikawa scowls, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki need no more explanation then that as they follow Oikawa’s line of sight to Midori Nakahara as she turns the corner and disappears from their view.

“She’s not going to get him,” Oikawa avows, “not this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone. If you liked it even a bit, give it a kudos, leave a comment and bookmark/subscribe - it really makes my day ^_^ 
> 
> P.S. Anyone else enjoy the crap out of chapter 104 of Attack on Titan?! Can't wait for season 3 of the anime!


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter seven everyone! 
> 
> Update: final edit is done and dusted :) 
> 
> Thanks to those who have commented, kudosed, subscribed and bookmarked - it's much appreciated. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy :)

** CHAPTER SEVEN **

 

(April, 2012)

 

Instead of staying in March for a week like they had originally planned back in 2013, the three of them had decided to wait it out till the start of April before making their next time jump.

At first Hanamaki had been opposed to it; a week was already a stretch in his books, but spending a _month_ in a period of time that they had already lived through years ago seemed to be way too much. They would have to sit through classes they had already done, would have to do the same old gruelling homework and assignments as well, and of course there would also be those pesky drills they would have to do all over again during practice, but Oikawa had been insistent that if they spent the first few weeks of the school term monitoring Midori and limiting her interactions with Iwaizumi, perhaps they could prevent the two from properly meeting in the first place. Staying for the rest of month would further act as insurance; to fully make sure Midori stayed well clear of Iwaizumi.   

_“But it’s a whole month, Oikawa,” Hanamaki had groused. The three were sitting outside during lunch soaking in the sun while Iwaizumi had gone to the bathroom, so Oikawa had deemed it safe to bring it up, “besides we’re not even in Iwaizumi’s classes while Midori is. There’s no way we can stop them from meeting or even talking to each other.”_

_“I know that, but I still feel like we should be doing more during our first jump. We would be wasting our time if we didn’t spend enough time trying to thwart Midori from the beginning. Look, I don’t think we should be stopping and staying for a month every time we jump ahead either, but since this is the first one we’ve done to 2012 we need to use our time effectively. Don’t you agree, Mattsun?”_

_“I think you’re right,” Matsukawa answers ignoring Hanamaki’s betrayed look, “staying for a month would potentially give us a little longer to make inroads. However, Hanamaki has a point; we can’t be everywhere at once. There’s a strong chance Midori could slip between the cracks again.”_

_Oikawa looks somewhere behind them, his face lighting up, “I know, but that’s not going to stop me from trying.”_

_Hanamaki peers over his shoulder to see Iwaizumi making his way back towards them and well, the fight leaves him. He can’t help but feel the same._

So the trio had stayed back in March 2012 reliving the same four weeks of said month all over again. Their plan to stop Midori had involved each of them taking turns to race to Iwaizumi’s classroom when lunch or recess started or before practice so they could pretty much escort him away from the classroom, as well as monopolising Iwaizumi’s time throughout the day as best they could. If PE classes overlapped, Iwaizumi would be their warm up partner or on their team for the given sport; if either one of them had a joint free period with Iwaizumi, they would drag Iwaizumi to a two seater table at the library to have a private study session; the brief moments they would get between classes if they had to shift rooms was spent engaging Iwaizumi in conversation if they saw him, much to Iwaizumi’s amusement and confusion. Naturally of course, Oikawa had wanted to go that little bit further and be bumped down a class so he could be there during classes to monitor the two more thoroughly, but when Iwaizumi had caught wind of Oikawa’s plan to voluntarily shift classes despite his stellar grades, he had nipped the idea in the bud, arguing that if Oikawa wanted a scholarship then he needed to stay in the class he was in now, much to Oikawa’s chagrin.

Everything was going well, Hanamaki had thought as they reached their last week. So far during their daily meetings about their progress, they had all noted that Midori was never really present nor had she really interacted with Iwaizumi much to everyone’s relief, and although it had been a long and an exhaustive month going through the motions of chasing after Iwaizumi and watching Midori like a hawk, getting to be with Iwaizumi again, eating lunch together, playing volleyball, bantering back and forth during the walk home after years of his absence was completely worth it.

As well as things had been going – he had to admit it was a good idea on Oikawa’s part to scope out things for a bit longer initially, it was time to move forward and progress onwards with their mission; their next time jump set to take them to the middle of May. If all went according to plan, their time in May would last approximately a week then they were off to September.

 _Hopefully_ , he thought as he flops onto his bed, _things won’t change too drastically between our jumps._

The jump itself was taking place tomorrow evening just before midnight, the three were meeting up at a not-too-far-away park away from prying eyes; the last thing they needed was someone catching them with a weird looking box in the midst of jumping into the visages of time.

As Hanamaki lies there staring up at his bedroom ceiling he allows himself to mull things over. He had been mildly worried about the butterfly effect since it had been brought up and while things had been smooth sailing for the last month, there was no telling when the shit would hit the fan. Despite their efforts, Midori could still very well find some way to make herself known to Iwaizumi, or the time frame of certain interactions could jumble or change completely, which would make things considerably difficult for them as time went on. He didn’t want to rain down on the other two’s parade, seeing as things were fine for now, so he kept these more negative thoughts to himself, biting his lip despite the questioning glances Matsukawa sometimes sent his way.

_Bzzztttt. Bzzztttt. Bzzztttt._

His attention shifts to his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket and as he pulls his phone out to see who is calling him Hanamaki finds himself chuckling exasperatedly.

_Speak of the devil._

“Howdy.” Hanamaki says as he answers.

 _Howdy?!_ Excluding the time spent time travelling together, Hanamaki hadn’t been this casual with Matsukawa in years.

“Howdy yourself.” Matsukawa replies back, mirth evident in his voice.

“Uh.” is his intelligent response.

“If this a bad time I can hang up?”

“It’s fine,” he says as he buries his face in the pillow, hoping it’ll swallow up him and his awkwardness, “what’s up?” 

“Well, I was just calling to see if you were alright.”

_What._

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he says defensively.

“I’m not saying you’re not – it’s just, well, you’ve been quiet lately...”

“Have I now?”

“Look, forget I asked—”

“No, wait, I’m just—gah—it’s just...I’m just worried about everything you know?” At Matsukawa’s silence, Hanamaki continues on, “I still feel like things can easily go in the opposite direction...there’s going to come a time when we’re not there and I betcha that’s when Midori will make her move. Midori is the type of person who doesn’t stop till she gets what she wants, so when Iwaizumi finally does get her attention and she decides to _pursue_ him, what will we do then?”

“It is a worry and it’s something that’s bothering me too, Oikawa as well no doubt.”

“I didn’t really want to say anything in front of Oikawa; you know what he’s like. The idiot was going to pretend like he was struggling in his classes just so he could be moved to Iwaizumi’s.”

“Hmmm, I know what you mean. He really can go to the extremes, especially when it comes to Iwaizumi.”

“I just don’t what to do,” Hanamaki says dejectedly, “if things were to go wrong. I don’t think I can handle seeing Iwaizumi die again.”

“That’s not going to happen, not this time, Takahiro.”

Hanamaki’s heart jolts underneath the skin of his chest at the use of his first name, “I thought we were limiting our jumps?”

“It would be nice to keep the number jumps down, but if things don’t work out, well, I’m not going to stop there. I’ll keep going back and back and back until I set things right again, and I have a feeling you and Oikawa would do the same as well.”

“Yeah, yeah I would.”

“Good. It’s not like you to give up.”

_I gave up on us, didn’t I Issei?_

“Heh, I guess so.”

It’s funny, Hanamaki thinks, that after so long of avoiding each other or communicating through petty arguments, how easy to pick up where they left off prior to their sour break up. Things had been strained between them for far too long, so now that the tension is starting to ease up Hanamaki doesn’t know if he should go with it or keep holding on.  

“There we go, but I should let you know services aren’t free. After the first minute, each additional minute costs—”

“Oh shut up, Matsukawa,” Hanamaki barks with no real bite, “you’re the one who called me, so I’m the one who should be charging you!”

“True, but what about mate’s rates?”

“You can shove them—”

“Now now, let’s keep this PG-13.”

“Pfft,” Hanamaki sits up on his bed, toes wiggling on top of the sheets, “but anyways, thanks...for that. It was good to finally get it off my chest.”

“Are you sure you’re okay though?”

“I’m still worried, but I feel a little better now.”

“You know you can talk to me anytime, right?” Matsukawa asks.

“Yeah,” Hanamaki murmurs, smiling softly, “yeah I know.”

****

 

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“You’ve already asked me twice,” Iwaizumi sighs flatly from his spot across from Oikawa, “and I’ve already said yes, both times.”

“Did I now?”

“Yes, now stop procrastinating and finish your math homework.”

Iwaizumi is in a bit of a grumpy mood. Oikawa wonders if it’s because he keeps pestering Iwaizumi every five minutes instead of doing his homework, or if it’s because he had stupidly rolled his ankle during practice yesterday afternoon while he had been fooling around instead of cleaning the gym.

Oikawa had been so caught up with their plan to stop Midori and being overwhelmed with excitement at being reunited with Iwaizumi that he had totally forgotten that yesterday had been the day he had originally rolled his ankle on a stray volleyball at the end of practice. Iwaizumi – like he had the first time, had oscillated between barking stern – but not unkind, orders all afternoon and fretting like a mother hen.

“Do you think I’ll be fine for the practice match against Karasuno?” he ponders out loud. He knows he will based on what went down the first time but it doesn’t hurt to play along.

“You heard what the physio said: just keep doing your strengthening exercises, keep strapping it and icing it and take it easy for now. The sooner you do all that, the sooner you’ll be able to play.” 

Oikawa runs his hand over his slightly swollen ankle, his fingers palpating along his ankle as he maps out where it’s most painful and hisses when his index and middle finger presses a little too hard on the spot right below the bone.

“Stop that, dumbass,” Iwaizumi scolds, hand coming around to gently pry his hand away from his foot, “you’re gonna make it worse.”

“It’s not that bad.”

Instead of calling his bluff, Iwaizumi just stands up and comes up behind Oikawa. Before Oikawa can ask what his friend is doing, Iwaizumi’s hands snake underneath his armpits and lift.

Oikawa yelps, “Wha—Iwa-chan, what are you doing?!”

“Just be quiet.” Iwaizumi huffs as he sets Oikawa upright beside him, then moves his arms so one is now wrapped around his back while the other curls under his knees, and picks him up bridal style.

Instead of squawking, Oikawa is left gaping comically like a fish out of water, hands coming up to wrap around Iwaizumi’s neck, while the rest of him burns where their bodies press together. Iwaizumi walks them over to Oikawa’s bed with ease, and leans over so he can deposit Oikawa on top.

“Iwa-chan—”

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.” 

Iwaizumi walks out of Oikawa’s room and leaves Oikawa sitting there like a shag on a rock, until he comes back not even five minutes later with a roll of rigid tape in one hand and an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel in the other. He works quietly and efficiently, gently positioning Oikawa’s foot the way the physiotherapist had taught him as he straps up Oikawa’s sprained foot. Once he finishes, Iwaizumi then places the ice pack over the puffy ankle and frowns. Oikawa knots fingers together; it seems like Iwaizumi really is cranky with him.

“Look, I know I should’ve been more careful, but I—”

“You’ve been acting weird lately.”

“Huh?”

“Forget about the ankle. For weeks now you’ve been acting all skittish, like you’re trying to hide something from me,” Iwaizumi is finally looking at him now, his moss green eyes have taken on a steely edge, “what’s going on?”

Oikawa should’ve known Iwaizumi would suspect something, “There’s nothing going on!”

_I’m just trying to save your life, no big deal._

“It’s not just you; Hanamaki and Matsukawa are acting strangely too,” Iwaizumi continues ignoring Oikawa, “stranger than usual.”

Even if he could tell Iwaizumi what was going on he wouldn’t know where to start.

_‘Well get this, Iwa-chan, I’m – as well as Makki and Mattsun – are actually from the year 2026.We’ve been travelling through time with this box Mattsun found and fixed up so we can save your life. You died in car crash because you had just found out your wife lied about you being your daughter’s biological father! Oh, and said wife also blackmailed you into dating her in the first place! So, to prevent this from happening all over again, do you think you could avoid the new girl who happens to be in all your classes?’_

Oikawa doesn’t like lying to Iwaizumi. He normally doesn’t, or gives up the second Iwaizumi catches him in the lie, but desperate times call for desperate measures so he musters his most genuine smile and looks at Iwaizumi directly in the eyes. “Nothing is going on, I promise.” Oikawa assures, waving his hands in placating manner.

“Ok.” Oikawa allows himself to relax but then Iwaizumi says, “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but it’s nothing serious right? You’re not in trouble or anything are you?”

“No, it’s nothing serious I swear.”

“Well alright then.”

Iwaizumi goes to stand up but Oikawa grabs his forearm, “Thank you, Iwa-chan, for helping me with my foot.” 

Iwaizumi sits back down again, “It’s nothing.”

“No it isn’t.” Oikawa scolds, yanking at Iwaizumi’s arm in reprimand, “you—you always—everything you do for me is always above and beyond.”

“Someone has to make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

In the spur of the moment, Oikawa leans forward and places a soft, quick kiss to Iwaizumi’s already red cheek, and as he pulls away he whispers into Iwaizumi’s ear, “Thank you, Hajime, for everything.”

Iwaizumi looks away and coughs weakly, “Ah, w-well...”

Heart thumping wildly, Oikawa swivels around and practically skyrockets off of the bed, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the boy’s room, maybe you could go help kaa-san with dinner like a good guest?”   

Iwaizumi grumbles something about how Oikawa should go help with dinner since it’s what good sons should do but Oikawa can hear the floorboard creaking as he stands up, which probably means he’s going to head downstairs to the kitchen anyway.

Once he reaches the bathroom door, Oikawa clicks it shut and seats himself on the closed toilet seat and slaps the palms of hands over his eyes.

_What the fuck was that?!_

As mortified as he is by what he had just done, Oikawa begins to wonder if this will help with their _mission._ Perhaps, if he confesses to Iwaizumi – and Iwaizumi confesses back, maybe things will well and truly work in their favour? There would be no more beating around the bush when it came to his feelings for Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi’s feelings for him, and if Midori had previously been banking on Iwaizumi being single, then if he beat her to the punch then it wouldn’t matter what she says or does anymore, right?

 _Wrong,_ a voice inside his head rings, _just because there’s a libero doesn’t mean you can’t score._

No matter what Iwaizumi’s relationship status is, Midori could still flirt away with him until she decides to blackmail Iwaizumi into dating her; resulting in the same outcome as before. So really, was confessing his feelings really going to make a difference to the future at this stage?

“Tooru! Stop hiding in the bathroom and come help Hajime-kun and I with dinner!” his mother calls shrilly from downstairs.

“Coming!”

It would look like he’d have to think about this some other time.

 

****

 

The following evening, long after his parents have gone to bed, Matsukawa sneaks out and heads to the local park.

The park isn’t too far from his house, but in the quiet and darkness of the night it certainly feels like he’s been walking for decades, with only the street lights to keep him company. The April air is a little chilly even with his woollen sweater and track suit pants, but he doubts it’ll be a concern within the next half an hour; by then he should be in the warmth of his bedroom back in May 2012.

The other two are waiting by the playground slide when he finally arrives. Hanamaki is leaning up against the slide with his arms tucked in his armpits and Oikawa is sitting in the opening of the slide while he toes at the mulch on the ground with his shoes.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.” Matsukawa puffs as he jogs towards them.

“We only just got here ourselves,” Hanamaki yawns, “let’s just get this over with, I’m beat.”

“Alrighty then.”

They positioned themselves out of sight behind the slide and Matsukawa retrieves the time box from the front pocket of his sweater, “Ok, I’m setting the time box to the third Sunday in May 2012, but leaving the time of day unchanged like we discussed.”

Oikawa stretches his arms over his head, “I hope I wake up in bed. Crashlanding on hard surfaces isn’t all that fun.”

Hanamaki snorts “You in bed before midnight? Unlikely.”

“Trust me; I’ll be going straight to bed when I come to in May, Makki.”

Oikawa and Hanamaki set their hands onto the time box as Matsukawa stretches his arm out with the time box resting on the palm if his hand, and for what seems like the one hundredth time he presses the button.

 

****

 

(May, 2012)

 

Like he had hoped, Matsukawa comes to in May 2012 underneath the weighty warmth of his doona cover. The room is dark, but he can make out the hands on the clock on his desk from the moonlight streaming through the partially curtained window.

11:57pm, it reads.

He can feel the time box jutting into his side so he reaches under the sheets to retrieve it and places on his bedside table, too tired and dizzy from the time jump to even consider tucking it away somewhere a little more hidden. As it lightly _clonks_ onto the wooden surface, his mobile phone - that is also residing on the bedside table - lights up with a message from Oikawa.

 

 _[ **From: Oikawa Tooru:** Everyone okay?_ _P.S. Makki, I am in bed: P]_

_[ **From: Hanamaki Takahiro:** all good] _

_[ **From: Hanamaki Takahiro:** huh, well what do you know...] _

_[ **From: Matsukawa Issei:** Im fineSee yous tomorrw]_

 

Is all he types half-assed, returning his phone to its spot next to time box before rolling over onto his side drifting off to sleep.

 

****

 

In addition to the physical exhaustion that came with a week-long volleyball training camp, something rather bizarre had occurred during the first two days of their arrival into May that had left them feeling mentally drained: all the things that had happened in the time they had skipped came rushing back to them – as if their memories were fast forwarding to keep up with them.

It had been a new experience to add to the repertoire of things that came with time travelling, and it certainly wasn’t the most pleasant feeling to have a million thoughts come crashing into your mind, however it was probably better knowing what had happened in the weeks between jumps than scrambling for clues – though Oikawa wondered what their teammates and coaches had thought of them stumbling around at camp while they nursed throbbing headaches.

Matsukawa had been equally blindsided by it too despite having jumped more than the two of them, but did highlight that since he never jumped too far back for it to really have a real impact on his present that it was understandable. The three had mellowed out once their memories caught up and the headaches faded away after a couple of days.

In their spare time, the three of them had tried to steal time to themselves so they could recount the events that had occurred over the last few weeks to ascertain if anything major had occurred within the time they had skipped over. Fortunately there hadn’t been, and since they had spent the majority of their time at training camp and not at school, they didn’t have to worry about monitoring Midori.

Until now.

It’s Monday morning – their first day back at school and their last day in May 2012, and Oikawa is a man on a mission.

He goes about preparing for the day with more pep than usual. He hums as he brushes his teeth, takes extra time to style his hair with his favourite hair gel and makes up lunch for the day, setting aside a portion for a bento box for Iwaizumi and himself to pick out of during lunch. He calls out goodbye to his parents as he puts on his shoes in the genkan, tucks the bentos into his bag and heads out to Iwaizumi’s house.

Another thing that had come to light in the whirlwind of memories was the _lack_ of progression in his and Iwaizumi’s relationship. Nothing else had occurred since Oikawa’s impulsive cheek kiss back in April – much to Oikawa’s dismay; maybe the indecisiveness he had felt before he had jumped ahead had lingered and manifested in the time he had skipped? They didn’t have many time jumps left to make, and if Oikawa wanted to make his move he was going to have to do it soon. Where he had been conflicted – and embarrassed, as to whether he should declare his love for his friend, he now feels emboldened and ready.

_No time like the present, right?_

Iwaizumi is already waiting for him at his front gate entrance, eyelids at half mast as he fights to stay awake, but still, even in his tired state, he’s still incredibly handsome.  

“Morning, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi peels himself off his leaning position against the fence and appraises Oikawa with furrowed brow, “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

Iwaizumi gestures at Oikawa with his hand, “That. Aren’t you tired?” 

“I can function well on not a lot of beauty sleep seeing as I’m already beautiful.”

Iwaizumi groans, “It’s too early for this.”

They start walking to school together, Oikawa taking pity on Iwaizumi by remaining silent so his friend can suffer in peace. He has till the end of the school day to confess so he can hold off for now, plus he’d rather do it when Iwaizumi was more awake and less prone to lack-of-sleep-induced-grumpiness.

With no practice on Mondays, they bypass the gymnasium and head towards homeroom. There’s already students mulling about the corridor so Oikawa sticks just that little bit closer to Iwaizumi as they join the crowd, his hand encircling Iwaizumi’s wrist and pulling him at little closer just to be safe.

It’s as they pass some of the classrooms that Oikawa notices Midori walking in their direction with notebooks under her arm and freezes. Although they had been back in 2012 for around two months now, this is the closest he has been to Midori since their spat in front of Iwaizumi’s grave. A weird hiccup-y feeling makes itself known in his throat as Midori’s continues towards them.

 _Fuck,_ is all he can think.

“Oikawa?” He peers across to Iwaizumi who is completely unaware of Oikawa’s internal panic, “You coming?”

Oikawa sneaks a glance towards Midori and as if sensing Oikawa’s gaze, Midori shifts her attention their way, eyes locking with Oikawa’s briefly before looking to Iwaizumi who is semi in front of him.

She stops in her tracks.  

Oikawa scolds himself for not being prepared for this sooner.

“I-Iwa-chan,” he stammers, lurching into action quite literally, “there’s something I need to show you.”

“What – ok, ok, you don’t need to push me!”

_C’mon, c’mon, let’s get out of here!_

He ushers Iwaizumi forward, desperate to get away from Midori before she does something troublesome, when he hears clamouring behind him.

“I’m so sorry!” a voice squeaks. Iwaizumi halts in front of him and Oikawa crashes into him as Iwaizumi turns around to see what’s going on.  

It appears that someone – the boy who is now apologising profusely – had bumped into Midori while she had been standing there in the middle of the corridor, which had sent her notebooks and papers flying.

Normally he’d be the type of person to help someone who had dropped something, but now he turns away and sends his thanks for the welcoming distraction.

“Let’s go, Iwa—”

But Iwaizumi has already passed him and is crouching so he can pick some of the fallen papers.

_Fuck._

There are other students too, including the boy who had crashed into Midori helping pick up papers and the odd notebook, but as luck would have it Midori gravitates towards Iwaizumi.

“Thank you for that. I can be so clumsy at times.”

Iwaizumi gives her an awkward lopsided smile as he hands her the papers he’s collected, “No problem.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Nakahara Midori; I’ve only just started up at Aoba Johsai this year.” 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” is his polite reply as he stands up.

“You’re in class five too, right?”

“Ah yeah.”

Midori perks up, “How did you fair with the math assignment Haramoto-sensei gave us? The last three questions are doing my head in, and it’s due Wednesday too.”

Unsettled and annoyed at being ignored, Oikawa steps forward and wraps his around arm Iwaizumi’s shoulder, yanking him in close.

“Iwa-chan I really do need to show you something before homeroom starts, sorry to interrupt...uh, I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve meet, Nakahara-san is it? I’m Oikawa Tooru.” he makes sure he’s standing at his full height as he stares down at Midori.

“Oh, nice to meet you Oikawa-san.” is Midori’s bland reply.

Déjà vu hits him like a shinkansen

“Anways," Iwaizumi interrupts, "I can lend you my copy at lunch so you can go through it?”

“Really? Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver, Iwaizumi-kun! I’ll treat you to a snack of your choice at lunch.”

“There’s no need—”

The school bell rings, effectively ending the conversation and Oikawa’s plan.

 

****

 

“Uh oh,” he utters. 

It doesn’t take a genius to see that Oikawa is livid, Hanamaki thinks, as he watches his friend storm his way towards over where he and Matsukawa are sitting by the rear entrance of the school. 

The snippets Hanamaki had caught of Oikawa over the day were brief but it had been enough to confirm his suspicion that something was bothering his friend, so much so that even Iwaizumi was giving him a wide berth until he cooled down. Since Hanamaki had an exam to study for today and Matsukawa a report to cram finish by fifth period, they didn’t get the chance to really find out what was going on, nor could they continue with their usual plan; deciding as a group to leave it up to Oikawa for the day to monitor Iwaizumi and Midori since they were so busy.

Before Matsukawa can reply, Oikawa chucks his bag on the grass in front of them and lets out a muffled scream.

“It’s happened all over again!”

_Uh oh, indeed._

“What do you mean, Oikawa?” Hanamaki asks carefully.

“Iwa-chan and Midori spoke today and it was eerily similar to an interaction they had the first time.” Oikawa rakes his hands through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled do.

Matsukawa frowns, “And?”

Oikawa is pacing back and forth, “Well they officially met for the first time, but I—I could’ve prevented it. Goddamn it I fucked up.”

“Things might still be okay, Oikawa.” Hanamaki catches Oikawa by the forearm before he can pace away again, “Look it might not be ideal but things aren’t set in stone yet.”

“I was going to confess today.” Oikawa says quietly.

“You what?”

“I thought maybe I could fix things once and for all by confessing to Iwaizumi,” Oikawa takes in a deep breath and sighs, “but it’s not that easy is it?”

“No.” Matsukawa replies, “No it’s not.”

Oikawa kicks at a pebble, irritated.

“You still could,” Hanamaki insists, “confess I mean.”

“The thing is I really wanted to this morning,” Oikawa smiles weakly, “but now I just feel like all the fight has left me. How pathetic am I? One little interaction and I’ve given up.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Matsukawa says. His tone is stern, which is a bit out of character for Matsukawa, “we’ve all been spread thin over the last few months, plus we’ve just gotten back from training camp, so it’s only natural you’re feeling a little burnt out.

“Also, I don’t think one measly conversation is going to change things completely; when you love someone, nothing else matters. You love Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi loves you, so whenever you decide to confess, I think we all know what the outcome is going to be.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Hanamaki approves, impressed.

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle, “Well if you say so, Mattsun. When did you get so smart?”

“Well, I think I know a thing or two about love.”

Hanamaki feels himself flinch, “Matsukawa, what—”

“Now onto what we’re here for,” Matsukawa reaches into his school bag and pulls out the time box, avoiding eye contact, “did you want to confess before we go, Oikawa?”

Oikawa bites at his lip, before answering a simple “No.”

“You sure? We can wait?”

“No. I think I’d like to wait till we land in September. By then I hope I can steel myself a little better.”

“Well alright then.”

The three all stand in a circle, hidden by the thick shrubs near the school gate.

“Next jump is set to September. I don’t think we have anything significant occurring volleyball-wise, so we should be golden. Grab on, guys.”

They need no more prompting then that.

 

****

 

(September, 2012)

Hanamaki wakes to the cloudless blue sky and the warmth of the sun shining upon him.

He sits up, squinting as he adjusts to the glare. As his eyes become accustom to the brightness, he watches as Oikawa – clad in his school uniform, crawls a metre in front of him to a ledge, then hoists himself up with his arms to peer over the top of it.

_Oh, we’re on a the school rooftop._

“Iwa-chan’s playing baseball,” Oikawa calls out, “I remember this! Iwa-chan hits a home run, and then Midori kisses his cheek, I remember this!” 

In the distance he can hear shouting – no wait it sounds like cheering – and the solid _thwack_ of a baseball meeting a bat so it makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why they’ve landed during lunchtime when they had previously planned to arrive later in the day to avoid suspicion.

“Oi, Matsukawa, why are we— Matsukawa?”   

There’s no reply.

Beside him lying still and on his side awkwardly is Matsukawa. He’s breathing – _thank god_ , but it’s coming out slow.

He isn’t conscious.

“Issei. Oi, Issei” Hanamaki croaks, as his hands rest on his friend’s shoulders.

_Well—_

“Makki, what’s wrong?”

_—it looked like—_

“There’s something wrong with Issei.”

_—the shit—_

“Issei. C’mon wake up.”

_—had well and truly—_

“Issei!”

_—hit the fan._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The suffering never ends ;) 
> 
> Quick explanation for the chapter and how it was set out:  
> The structure of this chapter was purposely set out this way (chopping and changing, and slightly disjointed) to emphasise the gradual loss of control (particularly for Oikawa and Matsukawa) and the repercussions for messing with time. Just thought I'd experiment with the scene selection and length a little bit. This theme is obviously going to continued in the next chapter (because of how this chapter ended), which should give our trio grief. 
> 
> P.S. if anyone caught the subtle clues in recent chapters and this one that all was not well with Mattsun, then good job! ^_^ 
> 
> P.S.S. so hyped for AOT S3!!


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?! 
> 
> First of all my deepest apologises for the late chapter. 
> 
> Second of all, my deepest, deepest, deepest apologises for the late replies to all the lovely comments I got for the last chapter - guess who turned off the comment notification thing and thought everyone hated the last chapter and got really shook by it? *puts arm up* 
> 
> You might have also noticed that I've updated the final chapter count. Yup, this baby is nearly finished - including this chapter there's only 3 chapters to go~ 
> 
> So without any further delays, here's the next chapter! 
> 
> *Disclaimer: while I did proof read, I'm falling asleep as I post this, so please ignore any spelling and/or grammatical errors - I'll edit it properly tomorrow! 
> 
> Do enjoy! ^_^

** CHAPTER EIGHT **

****

(September, 2012)

 

“Issei. C’mon, wake up.”

Sparing one last look over to where the baseball game is taking place, Oikawa hurriedly scrambles over from the rooftop ledge and plants himself next to Hanamaki.

“What happened?” From what he can see it doesn’t look Matsukawa is visibly injured – no bleeding or anything blaringly obvious.  

“I don’t know.” Hanamaki’s hands are hovering over Matsukawa’s shoulders, “He was like this when I looked over.”

“Mattsun,” Oikawa says firmly, “can you hear me?”

Matsukawa’s eyelids twitch slightly in response, but that’s it.

“Issei.” Hanamaki hisses, hands falling to his lap. Oikawa doesn’t miss the look of worry in Hanamaki’s dark eyes as his friend studies Matsukawa’s prone form, nor how blanched his knuckles are from balling them too tightly in his lap. 

Unnerved, Oikawa takes a deep breath and analyses the situation. As a part of their minimal requirements for employment, Oikawa and the rest of the teachers at their school had to undergo mandatory CPR training annually, which – coincidently – took place only a few months ago in late 2025 funnily enough.

_That feels like years ago now._

From what he can see, Matsukawa is breathing normally, and while he is unconscious, he did technically respond to his question just now. Like he noticed before, there doesn’t appear to be any obvious signs of injury, so for now, it doesn’t look like CPR or advanced first aid is required, and although it would be a good idea to put Matsukawa into the recovery position, there’s no way of knowing if Matsukawa had somehow hit his head or hurt his neck, so Oikawa settles for leaving Matsukawa be.

What he should do now is—

Oikawa reaches out for Matsukawa’s hand, and with the nails of his thumb and index finger he pinches the skin on the top of his hand.

“Ah!”

—elicit a response.

Matsukawa groans below them, his hand pulling away from Oikawa’s in retaliation to the pinch.

“Issei,” Hanamaki inches closer, his hand coming to grasp Matsukawa’s hand, “Issei, can you open your eyes?”

It takes a few seconds for his eyes to flutter open. Matsukawa blinks groggily and winces at the sun’s glare, “W-what happened?”

“We don’t know, when we came to you were just lying there.”

Matsukawa rests his forearm over his forehead, “I feel like Oikawa has served into the back of my head a thousand times.”

_At least his humour is still there._

“Did you hit your head or something?” Oikawa asks.

“I don’t think so—where’s the time box? It’s not damaged is—”

“It’s ok, it’s just over there.”

Oikawa points over to the undamaged time box, sitting innocently a metre away from where the two of them are hunched over Matsukawa and can’t help but grimace at the irony.

“Ah thank god it’s okay.” 

Oikawa and Hanamaki share a look. Now that he thinks about it, if this particular landing had been harder than the others, why were Hanamaki and he okay? The rooftop isn’t all that harder than any of other surfaces they’ve landed on either. 

Matsukawa starts to sit up, ignoring Hanamaki and Oikawa’s protests and rests his head on his knees.

“Are you okay?” Hanamaki asks as he rests his arm around Matsukawa’s back for support, while Oikawa fiddles with the insides of his bag, eventually retrieving a water bottle. Unscrewing the lid, he passes the bottles over to Matsukawa, but Hanamaki grabs it instead and holds it to Matsukawa’s face.

“Here drink.”

Matsukawa takes a swig of water, and lets out a sigh, “It’s never been this bad before.”

“What’s never been this bad before?” Oikawa reaches for the water bottle Hanamaki absently hands back to him, almost fumbling with it; too busy trying to figure out what the troubled look in Matsukawa’s expression means.   

“This.”

Somehow Oikawa doesn’t think Matsukawa is referring to the landings.

Before he can voice those thoughts, Hanamaki interrupts, “I think we should get you to the school nurse.”

“I’m honestly fine.”

“No you’re not, stop arguing. Oikawa help me get him up.” Hanamaki orders; he’s already shoving their things into their bags, including the time box - which is wrapped in Hanamaki’s white blazer for insulation.

Oikawa jumps to action, picking up their bags and shoving their straps over his shoulders while Matsukawa weakly protests being helped up and escorted to the infirmary.

“Tough luck,” Hanamaki snarks, his arm snaking underneath one of Matsukawa’s to help lift him up, “what are you going to do, smoother us to death with your bushy eyebrows?  Puh-lease.”

Oikawa tucks his arm under Matsukawa’s other arm - helping Hanamaki take some of Matsukawa’s weight, Matsukawa steps wobbly as they make their way to the rooftop exit. As Hanamaki opens the door, excited hollers and girlish squeals sound out behind them out on the school’s field.

 _“Get some, Iwaizumi!”_ a voice shouts from afar, the same voice that had yelled it out all the years ago.

Oikawa bites his bottom lip, turning away from the roof as the door swings shut behind them.

 

****

 

That afternoon during practice Hanamaki and Oikawa partner up for drills at the back of the gymnasium.

The squeaking of shoes and the loud _thumps_ coming from the main court where Iwaizumi, Kyoutani,  Kindaichi and the other spikers practice as Yahaba sets for them – along with the occasion applaud from Midori – drowns out the gymnasium; ensuring their conversation is not overhead at as they practice overhead tosses and the occasional receive.

“So you think there’s something else going on with Matsukawa?” Hanamaki replies as he brings his forearms together to receive the volley ball.

“Definitely, don’t you think it was odd – that he was the only one totally wiped out by the time jump? Sure, I’ve felt a little lightheaded after them, but I’ve never been rendered unconscious.”

Hanamaki straightens out of his crouch as the ball connects and goes up high, “Now that you mentioned it, he always seemed to have these headaches.” Hanamaki frowns down at the floor, “What do you think he meant when he said ‘it’s never been this bad before’?”

Oikawa catches the ball above his head instead of setting it back, “I’ve been thinking about that as well.”

“Do you think this has happened to him before?”

Oikawa gives the ball a bounce, “It’s a possibility. Maybe he’s more affected by it all then the two of us.”

“But why?” Hanamaki growls clearly irritated. Hanamaki had tried playing it cool on the rooftop after Matsukawa had woken up and then later in the infirmary, alternating between scolding Matsukawa like a naughty child and then cracking jokes at his expense, but Oikawa could see through the act; could see the blatant fear reflected in the way he hardly left Matsukawa’s side until the nurse ushered them away, or how he picked away anxiously at a thread on his school uniform as they walked off to class. Even now during practice, Hanamaki has been distracted, his moves and reactions either delayed or over the top. So Oikawa thought it would be a good idea to get him alone to practice – not only so they could talk – but so his friend won’t get in trouble off the coaches or the others for not being focussed enough.

“Didn’t Mattsun say something about testing the time box back when we first jumped?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, maybe,” Oikawa catches the ball on the bounce, “maybe there are side effects when you time jump excessively.”

Hanamaki eyebrows rise in understanding as he pieces the puzzle together, “Wait so, you mean—”

“—that maybe feeling a little dizzy post-jump is just the beginning? That what happened to Matsukawa today could very well happen to us as well? Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

It’s not a particularly welcoming thought, but it’s the only thing that explains why Matsukawa hadn’t been conscious when they arrived at lunchtime today.

“What will happen to Matsukawa next time we jump?” Hanamaki whispers, eyes downcast.

Oikawa grips the volley ball tighter, “I don’t know.”  

The loud _thud_ of a volley ball being slammed by one of their teammates into the court echoes throughout the gymnasium.

“Oikawa, you know what this means don’t you? If we jump anymore, we’re risking Matsukawa’s wellbeing - ours as well.”

Oikawa feels himself droop, “I know.”

Between his own cowardice when it came to confessing his feelings and the double-edge sword that was time travelling, the whole thing feels like one epic fail.

 _I was foolish to think this would be easy,_ he admonishes to himself.

“I don’t think we should jump through time anymore – except for when we go back to 2026.”

Panic races through Oikawa’s veins to his heart as Hanamaki’s words wash over him, “What about our plan? We still have so much to do!”

“We can’t do anything if we’re unconscious!” Hanamaki snaps.

“I know that!” Oikawa argues back, tossing the ball away in frustration, “but everything will be for nothing if we don’t stop what happens _now_ in 2012 _!”_

Stone-faced Hanamaki replies, “I don’t want to risk Matsukawa’s life anymore than you don’t want to risk Iwaizumi’s.”

The coach’s whistles carries across the gymnasium effectively cutting off their argument, and calls for the team to gather round centre court. Hanamaki starts moving but not before he picks up the volley ball Oikawa had thrown in anger and sighs, “I’m sorry, Oikawa, I want to save Iwaizumi just as much as you, but I can’t put Matsukawa’s life in danger.”

Oikawa watches as Hanamaki heads off without him and from over Hanamaki’s shoulder he catches Iwaizumi staring their way and just knows he had seen what had just went down between Hanamaki and him. He averts his gaze and follows after Hanamaki, joining the huddle on the opposite side to where Hanamaki and Iwaizumi are standing.  

 

****

 

Two minutes into their car ride home from the doctor’s surgery Matsukawa realises that this is the first time in years he has been alone with his father.

Matsukawa stares across at the man, now taping his finger impatiently on the steering wheel as they wait for the green light, not knowing quite what to do or say. The light turns green and as the car rolls forward, Matsukawa settles deeper into the seat and closes his eyes willing the awkward car ride to come to end when his father lets out a small cough.

“Your mother will be worried.”

Matsukawa feels himself sit a little straighter, “Uh, yeah.”

“She’s been trying to call me since we left the school.”

“Oh.”

“Not to mention all the texts.”

“I’m sorry to put you both through all this trouble. I’m fine now, honest.”

His father side eyes him from the driver’s seat, “You almost fainted; it doesn’t sound like you’re fine.”

Matsukawa had omitted the entire truth when recounting to the nurse – and later the doctor, what had happened on the rooftop at lunchtime, watering down the story to only a severe headache and a mild case of vertigo. Despite the reproachful looks from both Hanamaki and Oikawa, they seemed to understand the necessity of covering up the incident unless they wanted explain the real reason. 

“You’ve been all quiet lately, not to mention you’re always locked away in your room or napping. Is there something you’re not telling your mother and me?”

“No, I—”

“Issei.” his father retorts.

They’ve stopped in traffic again and when Matsukawa looks to his father, his head is fully turned his way to stare him down. Like his son, Issei’s father is a tall man, but even still, he does have some centimetres on his son, so – unlike with his friends and peers, Issei has to turn his head up to meet his gaze. 

He could lie to his father, ignore him or joke around like he has always done – _and look how well that turned out_ – or they could have a civil conversation like adults; like the adult he had turned out to be.

“I-I’ve been stressed.”

“Stressed?”

“About the future.” Matsukawa admits.

His father frowns, confused, “The future? What about it?”

“I just feel as though I’m—I don’t know what to do.”

On many levels it seemed, now that he’s had all this time to think long and hard about it. Back in the initial 2012, there had been a lot of confusion on his end – about what path to take, opting for the path of least resistance. It hadn’t been entirely bad, he had found horology and had excelled in it, but was that all he was ever going to amount too – busting his ass twenty hours a day on something that was supposed to be a hobby, but was now a chore? Horology had been his entire life for so long – he didn’t think he could ever give it up, but it had taken so much time away from more important things – like his family and friends; like Takahiro.

_Iwaizumi, what in the hell were they going to do to save Iwaizumi?_

“It’s only natural to feel that way, with high school coming to an end. There are so many options in front of you it’s hard to know which one is right for you.”

“I just think it’s funny that you’re expected to know what you want to do for the rest of your life, when from up until now you have to ask for permission from the teacher to go to the toilet.” Matsukawa points out glibly, putting his elbow on the interior door frame so he can rest his head in his hand.

His father guffaws then says, “It’s rather ridiculous isn’t it?”

It’s quiet for a moment and wonders why he’s having this conversation with his father of all people, mentally preparing himself for the lecture he’s about to get about growing up and responsibility.

“Quite frankly, I was worried you weren’t taking things seriously,” his father begins, “but I’m glad to hear that you’ve thought about it – as daunting as it all is.”

_What now?_

“Is there anything you’ve considered doing after school finishes?” his father inquires.

“I—well—I like clocks?”

“Clocks?”

“I like how they work to be exact. I like seeing how they work, taking them apart—”

“—yes, I seem to recall you opening up my Grand Seiko watch all those years ago.”

“I put it back together didn’t I?”

“That you did.”

Matsukawa smiles and thinks back to when Hanamaki, Oikawa and he had been at his apartment before their very first time jump as a trio; how the two had put their trust in him and the time box he had fixed, to go back and save Iwaizumi, “I suppose I just like the idea of fixing things.”

His father hums and pulls into their neighbourhood, “I don’t know if you would be interested, but my brother – your uncle, owns an engineering firm in Niigata. I could always put in a word, see if he’s willing to take his nephew on for work experience.

“You don’t have to make decision now, especially after the day you’ve had, but you never know it may align with your interests; might give you some ideas.”

“I’ll think about it.” Matsukawa assures his father as they park in the driveway, “Thank you, otou-san.”

_When had talking to his father been so easy?_

****

 

Later on that evening Matsukawa gets a visitor.

“H-Hanamaki?” he splutters as Hanamaki lets himself into his room after a curt knock, “what are you doing here?”

Hanamaki softly closes the wooden door behind him, “You’re parents let me in, said it was okay for me to pop my head in before dinner.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Hanamaki hesitantly steps deeper into Matsukawa’s bedroom, eyes darting from the desk to the miscellaneous band posters on the walls and to Matsukawa’s feet that are scrunched on the bed sheets. He steadily approaches the desk chair then sits down, placing his elbows on his knees before cradling his head in his hands.

“Are you okay?” Matsukawa asks.  

Hanamaki snorts, “I should be asking you that.”

Making a circle with his index finger and thumb Matsukawa replies, “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You weren’t fine today. What the hell happened, Issei?”

“I really am—”

“Don’t bullshit me; I’m not your parents or the nurse.” Hanamaki snaps.

It’s no use lying to Hanamaki, Matsukawa decides, swinging his long legs around so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It started off with the headaches – around the time we landed in 2021.” Matsukawa begins, threading his fingers together in his lap, “I thought nothing of it; it happened all the other times I jumped when I was testing the time box out, I just thought it was a mild side effect.

“But as our jumps became more frequent and since they were going _way_ back in time, I noticed every time we landed in a new time the headaches became worse, the dizziness became worse – it was almost like I was hung-over minus all the drinking. I had a feeling that all wasn’t well during the jump before our last, I practically passed out after I texted you guys that night in May. ”

“Why didn’t you say anything??” Hanamaki fists his hands into his trousers lest he throws something at Matsukawa.

“There were more pressing matters. The last thing we needed was a distraction from what we’re here to do, so I kept it to myself.” Matsukawa states matter-of-factly.

“Well you did a job good of it at lunchtime today.”

“Why thank y—”

“Shut up,” Hanamaki flies out of his seat and practically leaps at Matsukawa. He yanks at the hoodie of Matsukawa’s jumper to get his attention, “shut up, you idiot.”

Matsukawa arms fall back to grab onto the bed to catch himself while Hanamaki continues to tear him a new one. There’s red-hot anger crackling in Hanamaki’s eyes that far rivals Oikawa’s when they’re playing Shiratorizawa, “Did you consider for one second that maybe jumping again would lead to something far worse? What would we have done today if you hadn’t woken up, huh? Twiddle our thumbs and do trust falls until our tour guides wakes up?

“What’s going to happen next time, Issei? Are you even going to wake up at all?”

Matsukawa gulps, in all honestly he hadn’t considered the _what ifs._ Pushing it back into the far recesses of his mind, he had brushed off his symptoms as just mild vertigo or motion sickness that wouldn’t last long or wouldn’t become too severe if they spaced out their jumps. Besides, saving Iwaizumi was the priority; in comparison, a little headache was nothing.

Or so he had thought.

A bit of Hanamaki’s spit hits his cheek as he rambles away, still tugging at his jumper for emphasis. He hasn’t really let Matsukawa get a word in edgewise and that’s okay, Hanamaki had always been the more verbal of the two of them, and it’s certainly better being scolded by him than not being spoken to at all.

Matsukawa had noticed – over the course of the last few months – that things were exponentially better between the two of them. Jokes or wise cracks that were on the tip of his tongue only to be swallowed down again because things were no longer the same between them - or because Hanamaki simply wasn’t there - were now back and better than ever, the two of them firing off each other much to everyone else’s exasperation. The two of them being left alone at lunch, during practice and anywhere else in between went from tense to welcome, and slowly, Hanamaki started looking for excuses to track him down or talk to him, which Matsukawa was more than happy for. There were still things they tip-toed around – a lingering awkwardness that was going to take more than a couple of months to dispel – but things had almost reverted to what they were like before Iwaizumi’s death.

“So the next time you think you can—”

Before Hanamaki can finish his sentence, Matsukawa’s arms come out and envelope Hanamaki into a tight hug, Hanamaki’s chin crashing into Matsukawa’s bony shoulder, shutting Hanamaki up for the first time since he got here.

“I’m sorry.” is all Matsukawa says.

The room is quiet and still after Matsukawa utters those two words. He can vaguely hear the evening news on the television a few rooms down – something about severe thunderstorms forecast for next week – as well as the kettle boiling on the kitchen stove.

_Dinner is going to be ready soon._

In his arms Hanamaki shifts and Matsukawa thinks for a disappointing moment that he’s going to pull away and walk out the room - everything they had subconsciously been trying to fix the moment they all meet up again in Sendai shattering into a million pieces.

Instead, Hanamaki’s arms slide around Matsukawa’s neck as he buries his face in the spot just above his collarbone; exhaling as he pulls Matsukawa even closer.

For now dinner can wait.

 

****

 

Sitting on the swing in his neighbourhood’s park, Oikawa lets his mind race a mile a minute.

As horrible as he feels for Matsukawa, he doesn’t want to leave 2012 just yet. Technically, they still have a couple of jumps to make within 2012 and 2013 – which would tip the scales in their favour immensely, however in the aftermath of his conversation with Hanamaki at practice he doesn’t think that’s going to happen anymore. Hanamaki had been beside himself with worry over Matsukawa’s wellbeing, anybody with eyes could see it, and while Oikawa understands where Hanamaki had been coming from he can’t help but feel like they’re giving up before they’ve well and truly made inroads.

He feels as though he has done nothing. Today had been testament to that he thinks as he leans forward, his body weight’s momentum helping the swing gain speed. Despite not seeing the scene play before his eyes, he just knows Midori had planted a kiss on Iwaizumi’s cheek after he had hit a home run like she had done the first time. It had happened all over again and he had done nothing to change it, things were going to end up the same as they had before; their initial efforts making no difference whatsoever.

They had been too naive, too sidetracked with the idea that were they going to see Iwaizumi alive again - as well as save him from a premature death, that they had neglected to think about the repercussions of time travel.

And now they were paying for it.

Things would get worse – not only for Matsukawa, but for Hanamaki and he as well. Every time they jumped they ran the risk of unconsciousness or worse, and it was only a matter of time before they jumped again; whether it was a few months ahead or all the way back to 2026 fourteen years from now only time would tell.

Oikawa’s stomach churns at the prospect. To think that after all they had gone through to get this far, something like this could set them back.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the crunching of gravel until the person making the noise stops just before him.

“I knew you’d be here.” a gruff voice says, and Oikawa doesn’t need to look up to know that it is Iwaizumi.

 _Well you do know me best,_ he thinks sardonically.

“Where have you been all afternoon? You disappeared after practice.”

“Out and about.” he says not looking at Iwaizumi. He knows he’s being childish and cringes internally at the blatant display of rudeness in response to Iwaizumi’s concern, but he doesn’t want Iwaizumi sniffing around too much, if he can distract him with his fake smiles and curt sentences then he’ll keep it as long as he has to until he figures out a way to fix all this mess.

“Cut the crap, what’s going on with you?” Iwaizumi snaps, hand snatching the swing’s chains to stop it from moving, “I saw you and Hanamaki at practice, what were you arguing about?”

Oikawa lets out a sigh, feet coming to rest on the ground, “We weren’t arguing, just worried about Mattsun is all.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look convinced, “Funny way of showing it.”

“Sure is.”

“Ch. Real mature, Oikawa.”

Glancing up from the now still swing, Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi’s eyebrows lower in resignation and the way he shifts backwards slightly away from Oikawa. His heart sinks. Iwaizumi turns his head to look up at the waning moon. He looks deep in thought and Oikawa wonders what’s on his mind, but then Iwaizumi lets out a small, humourless chuckle, “It’s been a while since you’ve been this way.”

Disgruntled Oikawa asks, “Like what?”

“Distant. It’s like middle school with Kageyama all over again.”  

“Is that so?” Oikawa retorts defensively, inching out the swing seat to stand up before Iwaizumi. It’s funny, Oikawa thinks, that despite having a few centimetres on Iwaizumi he still finds himself stretching up to his full height, lifting his chin for extra effect. It must be telling of how hard he’s trying to come across as the one who’s more in control, when really he’s grasping for it.

“Do you remember back in primary school,” Iwaizumi starts, “when you first got your glasses?” Frowning at off topic question, Oikawa replies with an unsure sounding yes.

“You didn’t like them – thought they made you look uncool, but eventually you got used to them, you even admitted that they weren’t so bad after all.

“Then one day you weren’t wearing them. No matter how many times I asked you why you wouldn’t tell me, and you always told me everything – even what colour underwear you were wearing.” Oikawa smiles weakly but remains silent, remembering and knowing what’s next in this little story. “Then I found out you were being bullied by a kid in the class above ours; that he was teasing you and calling you names, and threatened to break your glasses if you told anyone.

“When you finally told me I was so angry, partly at you for not telling me, and obviously at the little prick who thought it was funny to bully an underclassman. I don’t regret the week’s detention I got for punching him in the face.”

“What’s the point of this story, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa rubs at his upper arm sheepishly.  

“That when it comes to you, nothing else matters.” Iwaizumi tentatively reaches out to grasp Oikawa’s hand, “Not bullies, glasses, volleyball, even Kageyama or Ushiwaka.

“So please,” Iwaizumi implores, gripping Oikawa’s hand tighter but not ungently, “talk to me, Tooru.”

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Oikawa peaks across at Iwaizumi. He wants so much to confide in him, to tell him everything; that he’s actually from the future and that he’s here to save him. But what bearing would it have? Iwaizumi wouldn’t believe something as outlandish as that, in fact he’d probably think Oikawa was joking and get mad at him for taking the piss.

He has to say something; has to give Iwaizumi an answer, he deserves as much.

“I heard about what happened during the baseball game at lunch today;” he decides to say, “that Nakahara-san kissed you. What’s that all about?”

It’s a little petty to call Iwaizumi out like this, but maybe, just maybe Oikawa can finally unravel and dismantle the intricacies of Iwaizumi and Nakahara’s relationship. Maybe this is his chance to finally do something.

Iwaizumi flushes and releases Oikawa’s hand, “You heard about that?”

“The whole school is talking about it. Poor Mattsun, he’ll be so disappointed to find out that he’s not the centre of attention—”

“—There’s nothing going on between us,” Iwaizumi says sincerely, eyes firmly locked onto Oikawa’s, and Oikawa believes him, would still believe him if he had not been privy to all that he had learnt about their relationship from their time jumps.

 “Really?”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I can’t believe this.” Iwaizumi says derisively, “This is what’s got you acting weird?”

_Don’t even get me started._

“Weird?” Oikawa parrots back, the frustration from today’s events seeping into his tone, “Why is she still flirting with you if you’re not interested.”

“How would I know?” Iwaizumi mumbles.

“Feh.”

“Why do you care so much?” Iwaizumi challenges, “You seem awfully invested in this whole thing.”

Oikawa growls under his breath. “It’s because I—” but tapers off, hand slapping over his mouth.

_It’s because I love you._

“Because you?”

This is it, Oikawa realises, after so long of keeping them under wraps and chickening out, it’s time to confess his feelings once and for all.

_Come on, come on, just do—_

“I love you.”

Oikawa blinks owlishly at Iwaizumi.

“I love you.” Iwaizumi repeats again.

“W-what—” Oikawa stammers.

“I’ve been meaning to say it for a while.” Iwaizumi admits, rubbing at the back of his neck meekly, “Sorry it took me so long.”

_Iwaizumi never confessed back in the other 2012, so why is he doing it now?!_

“Where is this coming from?” Oikawa blurts, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands.

“I don’t know,” Iwaizumi says, taking a step forward, “I just felt like it was time to say it.”

He licks his lips nervously staring down at the ground in embarrassment while Iwaizumi gets closer and closer, until he’s standing a shoe length away.

“Tooru.” Iwaizumi says softly.

Mustering all the courage he has left in his overwhelmed heart Oikawa rasps, “I love you too.” and before Iwaizumi can reply, Oikawa leans forward while he’s still feeling courageous and kisses Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi’s surprised gasp is muffled by Oikawa’s lips, now moving tentatively against Iwaizumi’s and not a moment later Iwaizumi is returning the kiss in kind. Oikawa feels Iwaizumi’s arms move – one wrapping around his waist, while the hand of his other arm comes up to cup his cheek, which prompts him to better position his own – both settling around Iwaizumi’s neck, holding tight. It doesn’t last long, both of them parting to catch a breath and their bearings, but then Iwaizumi’s diving in again, this time slanting his mouth at angle, which is then followed by a warm, wet press of his tongue at the opening of Oikawa’s lips. Oikawa lets him in with no hesitation, his own tongue exploring Iwaizumi’s mouth and licking at Iwaizumi’s tongue. Iwaizumi moans low and deep, the hand that had been cupping his cheek now slides up Oikawa’s hair and pull gently. Oikawa smiles, pulling away to end the kiss, but not before bumping his nose against Iwaizumi’s.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, it’s get rather late. Plus, I think my heart is about to burst.” he puffs out.

“Mine too.” Iwaizumi agrees, resting his forehead on Oikawa’s, “So this is really happening, huh?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa smiles, “it really is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1800-how's my writing? ;) 
> 
> Please kudos, comment, bookmark, subscribe - words can't describe how awesome it is.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never right? >.<
> 
> Sorry for the mega-lateness everyone, the tail-end of 2018 was ridiculously busy with work and personal matters, so naturally this chapter took a backseat (it's been sitting on my computer for a while >.<)
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter and the next as this story comes to end. 
> 
> I look forward to your feedback <3 
> 
> PS - I've done a cursory edit, but a more thorough one will be done tomorrow when I'm fully awake >.<

** CHAPTER NINE **

****

(September, 2012)

 

The following day, the feeling of helplessness returns.

Across from him at the table in the group study section of the library, Hanamaki is doing most of the talking, his index finger tapping on the table for emphasis as he lists the reasons why the next jump is going to be their last. Beside him, Matsukawa listens quietly as he leans against the wall beside the window overlooking the school grounds. Occasionally his gaze shoots across to Oikawa to ascertain his reaction to Hanamaki’s terse words, and Oikawa is unsurprised at the resigned look in his dark, tired eyes. The full gravity of the situation is not lost on all three of them Oikawa thinks as he exhales deeply through his nose.

There was no way they were jumping anymore – excluding the jump back to 2026, no amount of reasoning or negotiation was going to work on Hanamaki – or Matsukawa, whose minds were already made up, and strangely Oikawa can’t bring himself to fight them on it.

“Well, Oikawa?”

Oikawa snaps out of his inner musings and blinks a bit to refocus on his friends before him, “Hmm?”

Hanamaki sighs, “I know this isn’t what you want, but—”

“Ok.”

Hanamaki’s thin eyebrows frown in confusion, “Ok?”

“Ok to no more jumps,” Oikawa replies, shifting to stand out of his seat, “now you’ll have to excuse me, I promised Iwa-chan I’d help him with his English homework. We’ll talk more about it later.” Oikawa doesn’t wait for either of his friend’s reply – already heading towards the back of the library where Iwaizumi is seated in the quiet section.

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his pants so he can squeeze the inner material fabric. He knows Hanamaki and Matsukawa care, but at the same time it’s abundantly clear that they no longer want to continue on as they had been. As scary as it was seeing Mattsun unconscious, it doesn’t mean he wants to leave 2012, not when there was still so much more they could do despite the danger of prolonged time jumping looming over them.

There had to be something _, anything_ he could do to fix things before they jumped for the last time.

Much to Oikawa’s relief, Iwaizumi is alone when he rounds the book shelf, hunched over loose papers and grumbling away to himself as he vigorously crosses something out on the notebook in front of him. Smiling to himself, Oikawa ambles over with a bit more pep in his step. English had never been Iwaizumi’s best subject.

“Just what has that notebook done to you, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi almost jumps ten feet, “Shit, Oikawa, you fucking scared me.”

Feeling only slightly guilty, Oikawa takes a seat next to Iwaizumi and rests his head on his folded arms, “Is the essay still giving you grief?”

“I get that English is a universal language, but is the essay necessary?” Iwaizumi huffs irritated. 

Oikawa smirks into his forearms, “It’s really not that hard, well for most people.”

“Shut up.”

“There there,” Oikawa sits up and reaches out to give Iwaizumi’s forearm a couple of encouraging pats, “the Great Oikawa-san has returned to help.”

“Great.” Hajime says as he rolls his eyes. Oikawa watches as Iwaizumi’s gaze zones into Oikawa’s hand on his arm and the minute flinch of his torso that follows shortly after.

He tentatively lifts his hand away from Iwaizumi’s arm, “You okay?”

“I just —never mind.”

Oikawa shifts closer, “What?”

“I still can’t believe last night happened.” Iwaizumi says softly.

_Oh._

“Hajime.” Oikawa whispers.  

Iwaizumi sinks lower in his seat and scratches at his ear, “Well, I didn’t think it was ever going to happen – I didn’t think you’d feel the same way is all.”

“Really,” Oikawa deadpans, “you can’t be that dense, Iwa-chan.”

“You’re one to talk.” Iwaizumi shoots back.

Oikawa huffs as he leans back in his chair. If only the both of them had been upfront about their feelings from the beginning, then they could have avoided all this mess. _Well at least it’s all out in the open now,_ Oikawa muses, _despite the timing._

“You don’t regret last night do you?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi jolts, “What? Of course not.” It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to reach out to rest his hand on Oikawa’s forearm, “As scary as it was, and as scared as I still am about this, uh development, it feels right.”

“Feels like it’s been a long time coming, doesn’t it?” Oikawa supplies.

“Yeah. You’ve been a big part of my life for so long, Tooru, you’re important to me. It’s about time I took a leap of faith with this, with us.”

Oikawa feels the warmth sear into his cheeks and his heart, and smiles softly, “So cheesy, Iwa-chan.”

_A leap of faith, huh?_

 

****

 

The following week after last period on the Monday, three out of the four friends find themselves in the Hanamaki household, hiding away from the storm that’s about to hit.

“Iwaizumi, get your ass over here,” Hanamaki grumbles from his spot on the rug, “Oikawa’s fine. You staring out the window isn’t going to make him arrive here any faster.”

From the lounge room window, Iwaizumi sighs then breaks his attention away from looking out at the dreary, grey and Oikawa-less street outside, “I don’t think that idiot has an umbrella on him.”

“A little rain never hurt anybody—uh, most of the time.” Hanamaki mumbles that last part under his breath, internally berating himself on his foot in mouth moment. How could he forget that shitty weather had played a major role in Iwaizumi’s demise all those years ago?

From his reclined position on the lounge, Matsukawa sends him an unimpressed glance.

 _Nice one, Takahiro,_ Hanamaki bemoans.

Iwaizumi, oblivious to the exchange between his two friends, meanders back to the low coffee table in the centre of the room and plonks himself opposite of Hanamaki. Reaching out for a handful of M&Ms from the bowl situated on the table, Iwaizumi frowns “It shouldn’t take this long to clean a classroom.”

“Maybe some of his fan girls have found him?” Matsukawa replies, “You know how he gets, he can never say no his fans.”

“I know what he’s like, I’d just wish he’d have the sense to look out the window and haul ass.”

“Don’t mind, Iwaizumi. He’ll be here before you know it, plus we all know who he’d rather be with.” Hanamaki quips, sending the spiky-haired boy a knowing smirk and an exaggerated wink. For the second time in the last minute, Hanamaki is the recipient of another unimpressed look, but there’s no mistaking the splotchy blush that blooms across Iwaizumi’s cheeks.

Hanamaki’s smirk grows wider, “Naw cute. You two should just kiss already, seriously.”

Instead of telling him to shut up or pulling him into a headlock in retaliation, Iwaizumi shifts his gaze towards his lap and rubs the back of neck, “Uh.”

“Uh?” Matsukawa supplies helpfully.

Iwaizumi clears his throat, “Oikawa and I, we, uh, kissed already.”

While Hanamaki chokes on the M&Ms he was chewing on, Matsukawa flies up from the lounge seat and splutters, “What! When did this happen?”

“Uh, last week?”

“Y-you’ve kept it from u-us for a week?!” Hanamaki heaves as he catches his breath. _You’re one sly fox, Oikawa,_ Hanamaki marvels.

“Look, we wanted to tell you,” Iwaizumi starts earnestly, “but we thought it would be best to keep it to ourselves for a bit, until we’re more comfortable as a couple.”

“A couple?!” Matsukawa and Hanamaki cry in unison.

Iwaizumi huffs, then says, “Well, yeah. Can you both honestly say you’re surprised? It’s not like you didn’t see it coming?”

 _He has a point,_ Hanamaki agrees, _but will this guarantee that things will turn out ok in the future?_

It had crossed his mind before – the idea of Iwaizumi and Oikawa just becoming a couple to prevent Midori from preying on Iwaizumi, but surely it couldn’t be that simple? They could do everything on their end to thwart Midori’s attempts at getting closer to Iwaizumi, but ultimately it wouldn’t matter if Midori kept—

_Wait, no. Maybe that’s not entirely true!_

All this time, they had been obsessing over Midori and how their actions could prevent a relationship between her and Iwaizumi from developing, but there was another angle.

_Go directly to the source: Iwaizumi!_

“Hmm, I don’t know, it seems like you and Nakahara-san have been real close lately.” Hanamaki hums, as he picks out some chocolate from underneath his fingernail, than holds his hand up in the light cast by the lamp to inspect his work, “Damn M&Ms, messy as hell.”

Iwaizumi turns to Hanamaki, “What?”

“I’m not blind you know, Nakahara-san is like your second shadow these days, not to mention the rumours.”

Frown adorning his face, Iwaizumi replies, “And what, you believe those rumours?”  

From his seat on the lounge, Matsukawa watches his friends, eyes darting between the two like he’s a spectator at a volleyball match and they’re opposing teams. 

Letting out a long sigh, Hanamaki rests his elbow on the table and places his head in his hand, “Now now I’m not that shallow, Iwaizumi. Rumours are just rumours after all, but I do worry about Oikawa. You know he does put some stock in those kind of things, as outlandish as they can be.”

Iwaizumi ponders for a moment, then asks cautiously, “You don’t seriously think he _thinks_ anything is going on between Nakahara-san and I, does he?”

Even though Hanamaki shrugs like he doesn’t have a care in the world, his words are sharp and calculated, “I don’t know Oikawa nearly as well as you do, Iwaizumi, but even I know he’s the kind of guy who would have and still will entertain the thought.

“I do not doubt you or your feelings for Oikawa – I know you care for him deeply, but I’ve seen Nakahara-san in action, and she, well, there’s a lot of conviction on her part. I just hope she knows where she stands, I don’t want you or Oikawa getting hurt.”

There’s worry swimming in Iwaizumi’s moss green eyes, “I didn’t think of that.”

“I think if you truly want to be with Oikawa, you need to make your stance clear to everyone, even that Nakahara chick. Anyways, I’ve said my piece, anyone up for a game of Smash Bros?”

 

“That was a pretty bold move in there, Takahiro.” says Matsukawa later, after Iwaizumi leaves for dinner. There’s both reproach and awe in his tone as he peers at Hanamaki next to him on the floor as they play Mario Kart.

“It had to be done.” is all Hanamaki says, “Besides, it’s about time I pulled my weight.”  

“What are you talking about? Of course you’ve—”

 “Uh uh uh, I’m not fishing for sympathy, so I’m going to stop you right there. If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t even be here, and well, I think we both know without Oikawa this whole _thing_ would’ve been a bust—argh! Goddammit!” Hanamaki yells as his player Yoshi slips on a banana and falls into the water on the TV screen. As Yoshi is fished out, Hanamaki continues, “Not to mention, I think Oikawa has some tricks up his sleeve that he’s keeping from us and I don’t think it’s just his and Iwaizumi’s secret relationship. Do you really think he’d really give up an afternoon with Iwaizumi to clean a classroom? There’s something going on.”

Matsukawa sighs, “Hmm. You’re right, but I’m still going to disagree on the pulling your weight part. _This,_ ” Matsukawa gestures by sweeping his arm out to the side, “has been a group effort. It never would have worked without any of the three of us.”

“I think we’re going to agree to disagree.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” Hanamaki parrots as the two bump shoulders.  

_Whatever you’re up to Oikawa, I hope it works._

****

 

A lone bench within the school grounds, sits Oikawa, waiting. Really, Oikawa should be on his way home right now with Iwaizumi – especially since there was no practice and because of the horrible storm that was forecast – but instead he had come up with some excuse about having to stay back to help with cleaning-up duties since he owed a classmate a favour.

Iwaizumi had given him a sceptical look before heading off with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The other two had sent him a look – a _knowing_ one, but had left it at that as they ushered Iwaizumi along to the local convenience store to get a meat bun before the storm hit. He knows where he would rather be, but there is something he must do.

In the distance, thunder rumbles.

The scuffing of shoes pulls Oikawa’s attention to his side where Midori has stopped just before him, her arms crossed over her chest defensively.

“Ah Midori-chan fancy seeing you here—”

“It’s Nakahara-san, not Midori-chan, plus you did _ask_ me to meet you here, there’s no need to act all surprised. What did you want, Oikawa-san? I’d like to get home before the storm hits.”

A dry chuckle escapes Oikawa. He uses his index finger and thumb to position his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and stares up at Nakahara Midori. A petite girl with freckles decorating her cheekbones and sleek black hair that’s just a little longer than shoulder length, Oikawa recalls how tricky it had been to orchestrate this meet up with her. It had taken all his cunning trying to catch her at an opportune moment. If he had asked her in private, he ran the risk of her flat out declining, therefore he had grudgingly settled on asking if he could have a word with her that afternoon in front of her homeroom class – betting on the fact she wouldn’t want to lose face and come across as standoffish in front on the majority of their year.

Oikawa had been lucky in that assumption, and took glee in her look of defeat as she agreed to the meet up with him later on that day, much to the rest of their peer’s curiosity. 

“It’s about Iwa-chan.”

“What about Hajime-kun?”

Oikawa stands up from the bench, ignoring Midori’s way-too-personal use of Iwaizumi’s first name, “I think you know what.”

“I don’t see what it has to do with you.” Midori counters.

Taking a breath, Oikawa takes a moment to try and calm himself down before he descends into petty arguing. This wasn’t Kageyama or Ushiwaka he was up against, nor was this about volleyball or his knee or something that was usually solved by unleashing his anger, frustration or through Iwaizumi’s harsh but tender words. He had to fight this battle alone if he wanted any chance in winning the war; that meant he had to be calm and collected and conduct the exchange as if it were a volleyball match.

“Nakahara-san,” Oikawa starts, making sure his eyes bore into hers as he talks sincerely and honestly, “please leave Iwaizumi alone.”

Midori frowns as her arms unfold away from her chest, “Excuse me?”

“Stop with all the flirting. Stop asking him for help with your homework. Stop coming to games to cheer him on. All of it, it needs to stop.” 

Midori’s bottom lip drops as she takes in Oikawa’s words, then snaps up as she sneers derisively, “What are you, his keeper? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and can’t do? As far as I’m concerned, Hajime-kun is fair game.”

“Iwaizumi is not some game for you to play around with,” Oikawa warns as he takes a menacing step forward.

Midori sobers up slightly as she takes in Oikawa’s serious expression, “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m talking to you, one adult to another. There’s no need for threats, well, I’m certainly not going to sink to that level. What of you, Nakahara-san? You don’t strike me as someone who’d sink as low as to threaten someone.”

Midori levels Oikawa with a glare, “No, I’m not.”

“Good.”

The wind picks up, sending fallen leaves and the odd piece of rubbish rushing past them, like some weird imitation of some clichéd fast draw scene between two gunslingers; the kind Iwaizumi and he watched enough of in Western movies when they weren’t watching alien and Godzilla ones.

“Tsk, this conversation is ridiculous and since the weather is crappy, I’ll cut right to the chase. I like Hajime-kun, he’s the type of guy any girl would be lucky to have, likewise I’m the type of girl that he’d be lucky to have.”

His hands now perched on his hip bones; Oikawa shifts his weight to the opposing leg, “Are you now?”

“Yes. Any guy would be lucky to have me as their girlfriend.”

Oikawa smiles contemptuously as he says, “How modest.”

“Well that’s the pot calling the kettle black now, isn’t it?”

Oikawa fights a grimace, touché, however, “Maybe so, but at least I don’t treat people as though they’re titles or trophies to obtain. You seem quite convinced Iwaizumi is yours for the taking.”

Midori tucks a windblown piece of hair behind her ear, “Hajime-kun is single so I don’t see why—”

“—who said Iwaizumi was single?”

Midori face drops. “What?”

Oikawa only raises a single eyebrow in reply and shrugs his shoulders in mock indifference.

“You mean the two of you...?”

“I’m afraid so.” Oikawa says coolly.

As the wind howls eerily around them, but Oikawa doesn’t dare look away nor does he speak as the cogs and gears twist and turn in Midori’s dark eyes. Then, like the flick of a switch Midori’s expression goes from doom-and-gloom to happy-and-upbeat.

“I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Oikawa doesn’t believe for a second that she’s genuinely congratulating him or that the conversation is over, “Thank you.”

“I guess I can’t compete with you, Oikawa-san. You really are amazing.”

Oikawa doesn’t bother replying, feeling oddly like he’s been lined up like a shooting target.

“I’ve heard you’ve applied for scholarship to Tokyo University? Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Tokyo University is a good school - my father is an alumnus there, best years of my father’s life so he tells me; made lots of friends, some of which are now members of the university board.”

A dreadful sense of déjà vu washes over Oikawa.

“Tokyo University is very  _traditional;_ they have standards to uphold, you know? I don’t think they would want to concern themselves with potential students that don’t fit those standards, especially scholarship students.”

_Oh no._

Midori continues on, “What do you think the university board would do if they found out that you – a potential scholarship student, was a homosexual? Do you think you’ll still get the scholarship? Do you think you’ll even be accepted as a student or that they’ll let you play volleyball at tertiary level?”

A small growl escapes Oikawa.

“I’ve tried being nice, but it seems honesty and sincerity has no effect on you,” stepping closer with the direction of the wind, Oikawa reaches out with his left hand and plasters his hand on Midori’s shoulders and gives it a firm, ungentle squeeze, “Leave Iwaizumi alone.”

“What are you—?”

“You’ve had your fun, but enough is enough.” Oikawa wonders what he must look like in this moment; with his eyes alight with red, hot fury and his normally well-styled hair whipping around in the wind. He must look like a madman.

“What are you going to do, blackmail me with losing my scholarship into getting what you want all because the boy you’re crushing on isn’t interested in you? Grow up.”

Midori splutters at Oikawa’s words and tries to dip her shoulder from Oikawa’s grip with no luck as Oikawa latches his right hand to her other shoulder. She tries to retort back, but Oikawa interrupts, “You really think I care about some stupid scholarship – about volleyball – over Iwaizumi?” 

He had already faced a reality without a professional volleyball career, but life without Iwaizumi was a million times worse.

“You really think that I—”

“Tell your father, tell the school, the entire population of Miyagi or even Japan, of what I am and who I love, and you’ll come to see I really don’t give a damn what you think.

“Iwaizumi Hajime is the love of my life, and I won’t let you toy around with him. If there’s a shred of decency in you, than I beg you, stop; please just stop and leave us be.” While he had been speaking it had started to rain, if the wet coldness soaking into his blazer and slopes of his cheeks is any indication, but he ignores it in favour of watching Midori and wanting.

“Please.”

 

****

 

Later that evening, while the rain is still bucketing down in Sendai, a pyjama-clad Oikawa flops gracelessly on top of his doona. Inhaling the scent of apple and vanilla from the recently washed bed sheets, Oikawa lets out a tiny groan as he buries his face into his pillow.

Today had been mentally draining to say the least, but he supposes confrontations will do that to you. He’s mildly impressed with himself that he more or less kept his cool for the duration of his _chat_ with Midori _,_ and only hopes his words had some impact on Midori and that she’ll leave Iwaizumi alone for good.

 _Speaking of Iwaizumi,_ Oikawa muses as he eyes his phone on top of his desk. It had been a few hours since he heard from Iwaizumi, more specifically, since he replied with just a ‘thumbs up’ after Oikawa had messaged him saying that he wasn’t going to Hanamaki’s to play the Nintendo, and that he would see him a morning practice tomorrow. Oikawa knows he really should be taking advantage of the little time he has left with Iwaizumi, but, for whatever reason, he just wants to alone right now.

_I’m such a hypocrite._

Oikawa rolls onto his back and grabs a pillow to hug to his chest, and closes his eyes. _I want this nightmare to be over._

Oikawa doesn’t know how long he lies there listening to the rain. It sounds nice on the rooftop – the continual _pitter-patter_ on the tiles is soothing to his ears, until it’s interrupted by a sharp _tap-tapping_ on the glass window.

“What the—Iwa-chan?!”  Oikawa leaps from the bed towards the window to confirm what he’s actually seeing.

“It’s me, Oikawa. Let me in, it isn’t getting any drier out here.” comes Iwaizumi’s muffled reply from outside Oikawa’s bedroom window.

“You haven’t climbed up to my bedroom window since you were twelve.” Oikawa unlocks the latch and slides the window plane up so Iwaizumi can come through the opening; the sill collecting drops of water from Iwaizumi’s soaked body as he steps through.

“Desperate times.”  Iwaizumi grunts, shutting the window behind him.

Confused at Iwaizumi’s response and sudden appearance in his room, Oikawa busies himself with the insides of his wardrobe for some dry clothes for Iwaizumi to change into, “Here, you’ll get sick if you stay in your wet clothes.”

Wordlessly, Iwaizumi takes the clothes from Oikawa’s outstretched hand, then Oikawa turns back to his bed; giving Iwaizumi privacy. Once he’s finished changing, Iwaizumi shucks his clothes into the corner of Oikawa’s room where the rest of the dirty clothing lives until washing day, then takes a seat next to Oikawa on the bed.

Before Oikawa can open his mouth, Iwaizumi says quietly, “We need to talk.”

Stunned, Oikawa swivels to Iwaizumi with shock plastered on his face in the form of parted lips and hiked eyebrows. “Oh, about what?”

“About us,” running his hand through his short, wet hair, Iwaizumi begins seriously, “I’ve had time to think about _us_ recently, and well, I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about us.”

 _What?_ Oikawa’s mind screams.

 “When we kissed last week, as wonderful as it was—”

  _Oh, no, this can’t be happening._

“—I think that it might be best—”

 _No, no, no, no—_  

“If we just take things slow for the time being.”

“Huh.” Oikawa says dumbly, his heart still doing somersaults in his chest.

“Look, I know we spoke about it briefly last week, but this whole relationship thing – it’s new to me. There’s going to be times when I’m going to screw things up; times where I’m not going to be on the same wavelength as you, but I hope you know despite what you may hear or see, my feelings for you will always be the same.”

Taken aback, Oikawa responds “Where’s this coming from?”

“Some things have been put in perspective is all.”

Oikawa stares long and hard at Iwaizumi, before shifting to him a little closer, “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? And for the record, I’m new to this relationship thing as well. We’re both on the same wavelength in that regard.”

“I know it’s just that I’m not as eloquent with words as you are.”

Chuckling, Oikawa wraps his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders and pulls him towards his chest, “I think your words are just fine.”

_More than you’ll ever know._

In response, Iwaizumi cuddles into Oikawa’s side, his body warm despite being out in the rain just a short while ago, “Sorry, if I worried you by coming here tonight. I missed you this afternoon. How’d the cleaning go?”

“It went well, as well as cleaning can go I suppose.” Oikawa manages to say even as he’s trying hard not to visibly swoon at the fact Iwaizumi missed him this afternoon, “I missed you too.”

Overrun with exhaustion, Oikawa falls back on the bed still holding Iwaizumi to his chest. “You want to crash here tonight? I don’t think it would be very gentlemanly of me to send you out into rain this heavy.”

“How very nice of you.” Iwaizumi huffs, as he moves over to the side so they can both fit properly on the bed.

As Oikawa starts to feel himself drifting off as they settle on the bed – Iwaizumi resting his arm across Oikawa’s torso as he nuzzles his face into the crook of Oikawa’s neck, he finds that he doesn’t quite want to be alone tonight after all.

 

****

 

“Oikawa, it’s time to go.”

Oikawa snaps out of his daze at Matsukawa’s words.

The three had made their decision to make their way back to their original time back in 2026 this evening post-volleyball practice, but now that the time has come Oikawa can’t quite believe it.

 “I know, Mattsun.” he whispers, not budging.

“We agreed,” Hanamaki pipes in from next to Matsukawa, “that today is the today we go back – back to 2026. We’ve done all that we can do—.”

“I know, Makki!” Oikawa repeats, urgency in his voice, “It’s just—I need to say goodbye to Iwaizumi, just one last time.

“Oikawa, don’t make this harder—”

 “ _Please,”_ he implores, “this may be the last time I get to see Iwa-chan alive again.”

As if right on cue, Iwaizumi rounds the corner as he pulls the zipper of his jacket up to mid-chest, “Oh you guys are still here.”

“We were just on our way.” Matsukawa replies but he too isn’t making any move to leave, nor is Hanamaki.

The four stand in awkward silence, until Iwaizumi asks, “Is everything alright—”

Much like when they had first arrived in 2012 and saw Iwaizumi for the first time, Oikawa springs forward, arms reaching around Iwaizumi’s neck and yanking them both together chest to chest.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi arms come to rest securely around Oikawa’s back as Oikawa buries his face into Iwaizumi’s collarbone, “Oikawa, what is it?” Worried and confused, he turns to Hanamaki and Matsukawa for an answer, but is met with similar melancholic expressions.

“What—”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa then approach him silently and join in on the hug, arms settling around Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s backs, squeezing Iwaizumi’s arms against his sides. Iwaizumi turns his head to Matsukawa and asks, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Everything is okay, Iwa-chan, really. I’ll see you soon, okay?” Oikawa answers instead as he gives him one final squeeze before letting go.

He can only hope his actions – _their actions –_ are enough to set things right in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one is the last one guys! :O 
> 
> Lots of love <3


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